


Captive of My Spear

by nztina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Achilles and Briseis, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blackmail, F/M, HEA, Inspired by Troy (2004), Non-Explicit Sex, Pining, Prisoner of War, Soul Binding, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Star-crossed, War, inspired by the iliad, past betrayal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 53,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25782886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nztina/pseuds/nztina
Summary: "...but from me alone of the Achaeans hath he taken and keepeth my wife, the darling of my heart...as I too loved her with all my heart, though she was but the captive of my spear."-- Homer,Iliad, 9.335-340An epic war, an epic love.A Dramione love story inspired by Homer'sIliad.*****************ON A SMALL HIATUS*****************
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 255
Kudos: 154





	1. Captive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valancyjane74](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valancyjane74/gifts), [DramioneSwaki](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=DramioneSwaki).



> Gilded Shivers drew a beautiful picture from a scene in this story, which can be viewed here: [X](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFImkx8KtN7/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, about an hour ago, at 10 pm, I was reminiscing about the very unhealthy (yet swoon-worthy) relationship between Briseis and Achilles (i.e. Rose Byrne and Brad Pitt) in "Troy".
> 
> I have a degree in ancient history and spent several years of my life reading the Iliad and the Oddysey. I promise I'm not just a crazed romantic...
> 
> Okay, I'm both a historian AND a crazed romantic. I also majored in literature, it's not my fault I'm this way.
> 
> Anyway, I was thinking about how dreamy that situation was, so I decided to translate it into my very favourite ship of all time: Dramione! I spent the last thirty minutes writing this little start and then reading through several translations of Book 9 of the Iliad online - I don't miss that part of university!!! - to get that little quote at the beginning of the story as well as my story title. It's just past 11 pm now and my brain is fried, so let me know if there are any errors in this. I don't use alphas or betas, so there may well be a few mistakes.
> 
> I'm not sure if this story has been done before, but no matter. Anyway, it's only a loose version of the story.
> 
> Friends, I promise you a happy ending. We've had enough struggle this year, I'm not going to cause you more pain. There will be angst, though. Also, this first chapter is relatively short but the rest will probably be about double to triple the size of it. It won't be a long story, no more than fifteen chapters.
> 
> Let me know if you like this beginning!
> 
> xx nztina
> 
> P.S. I am dedicating this work to my friends valancyjane74 and DramioneSwaki. Thank you both for your kindness and friendship. I'm so happy that I got to know you through this wonderful site!

The war raged on, until suddenly, there was quiet. No more fighting, just waiting. The Death Eater army waited outside the parameters of Hogwarts for hours, which turned to days, which turned to weeks.

Now, months later, all he could do was wait. He didn’t want to be here. It was his pride, and his family that had landed him in this situation. Somehow, amidst the chaos, he had grown into the skill of duelling and was now one of his master's top soldiers. A weapon.

He hated it.

But…

There was no alternative.

A year ago, though it seemed much longer, he had been offered the chance to switch sides. The old wizard had almost persuaded him to lay down his wand, when his mad aunt stormed into the Astronomy tower and ended any chance for him.

Now, he waited. He waited for an end to the war. He waited to walk away from the mess or die on the battlefield. He waited to know the comfort of peace; the unparalleled joy of freedom.

Although they were waiting for movement, he was tense. There was a perpetual ache in his shoulders and the nightmares came more frequently than sleep. If he had a choice, he would walk away right now.

If only his mother wasn’t the personal slave of the man to whom he was indebted - indebted by his father’s foolish actions and not his own. If only the life he yearned for no longer existed.

If only there was hope.

He got up from his bed and walked to the washbasin, swiping a palmful of water across his face. As his mind cleared of sleep, he darted his eyes around his lodgings in the same way he did, every morning. He was stationed in the heart of the Forbidden Forest. The tent allocated to him was spacious; the bed wide enough to fit several bodies.

Death Eaters from lower ranks had found themselves a lucrative business in the trading of prisoners of war. The young girls and boys captured were good for nothing but their bodies. He never cared for them, but his master took pity on his lonely lieutenant, sending multiple women to warm his bed at night.

He couldn’t bring himself to care for them, but he could not turn them away. Refusing a gift would mean trouble - if not for him, then his poor mother. It was shameful.

There was enough drink to wash away the shame.

Although…

It returned every morning, without fail.

His gaze dropped to the naked girl lying on his bed, her face buried in the pillow. She was one of Yaxley’s girls. Given enough potions to turn them into pliable, submissive playthings.

As if she could feel him staring at her, the girl lifted her head, a dreamy, drugged smile still painted on her face. She asked him to come back to bed. He refused and made her eat breakfast instead. Probably the only food she would have for the next week.

Then he asked her to leave, pressing a few Knuts into her palm.

He was alone again.

It wasn’t that he preferred it. In fact, he missed the old days. He missed sitting in the common room with his friends. He missed the laughter.

But the quiet was his only solace in this war.

No screaming, no blood.

No sparks of green light.

He envied the dead and pitied the people stuck inside the castle. They had made it impregnable, and in doing so, shut themselves away from the world. Death Eaters camped all around the fortress. The light was trapped.

There was a tap at the fabric door and he spun.

“Hey, mate. A little early for me to be staring at another man's privates, do you mind covering up?”

“Theo.” He pulled on a pair of boxers.

“Alright, grumpy this morning, aren’t you?”

“News?”

“Saw that girl walk out of here. She’s good, isn’t she? Loaned her last week. She knows how to party.”

“ _News_ , Theo. Is there any news?”

His friend threw himself down onto the armchair in the corner of the tent, lazily grinning as he plucked a grape from the bowl of fruit on the side table.

“The very best sort.”

“Oh?”

“We caught someone.”

“Who?”

“Patience, man. Let me tell it properly.”

“I’m waiting.”

“There were a few kids trying to get out through one of the kitchen doors. They were Animagi, all mice. Probably McGonagall's idea. They would've been golden if we hadn’t been patrolling there at the time. Anyway, we caught them, me and Blaise, and just as we were about to put some pressure on the youngest one, _someone_ intervened. And by intervened, I _mean_ 'gave herself up in exchange for their freedom’.”

“Who, Theo, _who?!_ ”

Theo wiped his fingers on the couch and grinned.

“Oi,” he shouted, “bring her in!”

He turned to the doorway, where two brawny foot soldiers were dragging in a small, protesting figure. She was thrown to the carpeted floor in front of him, her hands and knees landing hard. As she raised her defiant chin to glare at him, he balked. He knew the colour of her hair by heart, her freckled cheeks were imprinted in his memory, her hazel eyes familiar as the back of his hand. The split lip was the only thing obscuring the mouth he had watched for years. Below him, covered in blood and bruises, and trembling with unbridled fury, was the Brightest Witch of Her Age.

 _Hermione Granger_.

She spat blood onto his floor and wiped her mouth, snarling,

“ _Malfoy_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? I have no idea if that chapter made any sense whatsoever, I feel totally mad to be writing a random story that I've not planned out at all, when I've already got one WIP as well as two planned stories in the works! I'll be updating sporadically, make sure to subscribe to the story so you don't miss out on a new chapter. I should really start planning out this story. 
> 
> Leave me a comment, I'd love to know what you think so far.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> ❤️❤️❤️


	2. Silk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, friends!
> 
> Didn't think I'd be back with a second chapter so soon but I was very inspired today. I hope you enjoy this one. 
> 
> P.S. I've decided that their POV changes will be highlighted "Psyche" & "Eros", for Hermione and Draco, respectively. 
> 
> Gilded Shivers drew a beautiful picture from a scene in this story, which can be viewed here: [X](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFImkx8KtN7/)

_ Psyche _

Hermione thought she hid the shock well. Staring up at the towering figure of her childhood bully, she tried to look as unaffected as she could. No surprise, no shock. Just anger. 

“What is this?” 

“A present.” Theo Nott stood behind her. “From the Dark Lord.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand? She’s Harry Potter’s best friend, and he’s seen your memories. He knows she hated you. So, he gave her to you as a gift.”

Hermione kept her glare directed at Malfoy, trying not to let it soften when she saw the dark rings under his eyes and the scars that snaked across his chest.

“A _gift_.” He repeated, his gaze slowly drifting back down to meet hers. They locked eyes and for a brief second, she was back in the Great Hall, accidentally catching his glance while he picked apart a croissant. 

Theo walked around her, keeping a metre of distance as if he expected her to lunge at him, coming to stand next to his friend. 

“For you to use _as you wish_.” He clapped Draco on the back, grinning widely at his own insinuation. Hermione felt sick. She was being given as property to the man who hated her more than life itself. 

“Get out, Theo.”

“ _Ooh_ , someone’s eager.” Theo waggled his eyebrows at Hermione in a way that made her feel sick to her stomach, before turning to duck out of the tent. Draco raised his hand and wandlessly shut the door.

There was silence for a minute, then two minutes. After Hermione had silently counted one hundred and fifty seconds, Malfoy cleared his throat. She looked up from the rug and saw that he was still mostly naked and awkwardly standing above her. There was a sudden release around her wrists and she realised that he had magicked away the ties binding her hands together. 

“You—,” he moved forward, before thinking better of it and backing away a couple of steps, “you haven’t changed.”

If she had thought he would say something to her, that definitely wasn’t what she imagined. 

If he was expecting her to answer, _he_ was sorely mistaken.

She clamped her mouth shut, wincing when it caused her pain, and resumed her scowl. He didn’t return it, instead walking into an adjoining room. She heard water running and then he came back to her, kneeling in front of her with something akin to concern smattered across his face. 

“Did they hurt you badly?”

She rolled her eyes. She had been dealt several severe blows by a Death Eater before Nott came back from speaking with Voldemort. _Obviously_ she had been hurt badly. Malfoy gave her a dispassionate smile, offering her the wet cloth in his hand. Her eyes fell to the Dark Mark staining his pale forearm.

“Here, wipe up the blood.”

She didn’t take the cloth. 

His jaw set and he held it out further. 

“Take it. _Please_.”

She didn’t.

Hermione grimly waited for the back of his hand to hit her cheek, or for the sting of a silent hex, but instead, she found the damp cloth being gently pressed to her mouth.

Her eyes widened in horror and she was unable to move for a minute, just letting him dab away the blood staining her face. 

When Hermione regained her senses, she launched backwards, throwing herself away from his touch. He looked unsurprised, and she wondered if he had been waiting for her to move away. With a soft sigh, he stood and reached for something. Her stomach dropped.

He pointed his wand at her before she had a second to brace herself for a hit of pain, but then a soft, warm feeling was spreading through her body and she realised that he was healing her. Healing a _Mudblood_.

Her mouth fell open as he concentrated on a spell to mend the gashes along her arms. She felt the blood flow back into her body and her skin knit together. When he was finished, they remained in silence, staring at each other. 

“Why?”

She couldn’t help herself. 

He looked away, surprised at her voice.

“Because—,” he swallowed, putting his wand on the dresser, “you don’t deserve this.”

She let out a short laugh. 

“I don’t _deserve_ this? What don’t I deserve?”

He frowned and she continued. 

“Being in the middle of a war? Being stuck in the castle for over half a year? Getting captured by your disgusting friends and being beaten to a pulp by a Death Eater who told me I didn’t look ugly enough and that he would fix that for me?”

“I—,”

She didn’t let him interrupt.

_ Eros _

“Being given to _Draco Malfoy_ as a prize?”

Draco winced at the way she said his full name, as if it was the most appalling phrase in her vocabulary. He looked her over and his heart clawed at his chest to see the girl he had pushed away from his heart cowering in the corner of his room, injured; her clothes torn from abuse. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

He pulled on a pair of trousers and a shirt, shoving his feet into boots and swiping his hair back from his eyes. He pocketed his wand and walked to the door, avoiding her eyes. He cast several wards around his tent for the short time he would be away from it, unwilling to leave her unguarded.

He went to Yaxley’s tent and asked for some women’s clothes. Yaxley threw him a slip of silk and he asked for something more suitable. The Death Eater told him these were the only clothes his whores were allowed to wear. Draco sighed and thanked him, taking the scrap of fabric and knowing Hermione would probably claw his eyes out for offering it to her. 

He reentered the tent to find her huddled against the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs and her chin resting on her knees. 

“I brought you something to wear.”

“I’m wearing clothes.”

“They’re covered in dirt and blood. I’d repair them but they look like they were on their last legs a while before you got captured.” He waited for some response but got none. “This is all I could find. It will be enough, since you won’t be going outside.”

He placed the dress on the bed, smoothing it out to lie flat against the sheet.

“I won’t change in front of you.”

“I don’t expect you to. I’ll stand outside.”

He left the tent again, going to stand by a large oak tree. He flicked a spell at the door of the tent, ensuring no one could enter, for her privacy, and then closed his eyes. Peace, for a few minutes. It was an uncharacteristically warm day and he relished in the small streams of sunlight peering through the canopy of leaves above him. 

Ten minutes later, he assumed she would be finished and entered the tent, averting his eyes in case he had gotten it wrong. When he finally looked up, there was a pain in his chest to see Hermione wearing the uniform of the Death Eater sex slaves. She stood by the bed, the pile of rags on the floor next to her. She looked so uncomfortable. _Obviously_. 

He tried not to focus on the pale green nightgown and instead, walked to his desk. 

“Are you hungry—?”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“What?”

“What are you going to do to me, Malfoy? I need to know.”

He didn’t know what she expected from him.

“I don’t…” He didn’t want to stoke the fear in her eyes. 

“Are you going to torture me? Rape me?” Her voice trembled as violently as her body. “ _Kill_ me?”

It took two strides to cross the room to stand in front of her. He couldn’t help it, he needed her to tell the truth, that he was not the monster she thought him to be. Out of fear, she fell to the floor and he crouched as she did, grasping onto the warm, bare skin of her shoulder with his hand. 

“Listen to me.” He squeezed her arm, softly. “ _Listen_. You don’t need to fear me.”

She looked up at him with a new expression, and he tried to stifle the questions in his heart, releasing her arm from his grip.

“You’re not—,”

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” 

“Don’t be cruel.”

“I’m not. I’m serious. I’m sorry that this happened and I won’t take advantage of you. You are under my protection here. I won’t hurt you.”

_ Psyche _

“Are you insane?”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was he really as foolish as this?

“I assure you that I am perfectly sane.”

“Then why are you being so stupid? You would turn down a gift from your precious Dark Lord?”

He sat back and laughed, darkly. She glared at him but he was apparently amused.

“If you were someone else, I would not hesitate to remind you that I am the only person standing between you and death. I don’t know if calling me stupid is the best way to go about things.”

“And if you were someone else, I would not hesitate to tell you that I’m Hermione Granger and you’re playing with fire if you think the Order won’t come for me.”

Suddenly, his hand reached out and touched a curl of her hair. She would have backed away but her spine was already pressed against the foot of the bed. He seemed mesmerised by it, holding it delicately against his fingers. 

“The Order’s most intelligent asset has been captured. I don’t think they’ll be doing anything for a while.”

His voice was low and dangerous. He released her from his hold, letting the lock of hair drop to sit against her collarbone.

Then, he was standing, turning, and Hermione let her shoulders sink. The nightgown was so thin and form fitting that it left little to the imagination. She was indecent. Her undergarments were so frayed that she chose to remove them, adding them to the pile of tattered clothes on the floor. If he wanted, he could easily force her to submit to him, and she would have no way of protecting herself. She was alone with Draco Malfoy, and she was vulnerable.

It was terrifying. 

She rubbed her arms to keep warm and focused on the soft sounds of whatever he was doing. A few moments later, she found herself staring at a plate of fruit and a glass of water. It looked like the most delicious feast in the entire world. He crouched before her, again.

The decision to close Hogwarts and make it into a stronghold had been a necessary one. Voldemort wanted the Elder wand, so there was no choice but to make the castle impenetrable. During the first month after the Order sealed Hogwarts, it had become quickly apparent that the food supplies within the castle were going to diminish quickly if they weren’t rationed. Hermione, along with most other able-bodied adults, willingly took meagre rations in order to keep the younger children and elderly healthy. 

It had been months of watery porridge and thin broths. One piece of an orange per week. Nothing substantial, but enough to keep her going. Before Draco had returned to the tent, she finished changing and stared at herself in the mirror that stood by the door, shocked at her appearance. There was still a little blood caked into her curls and her malnourished frame was obvious in the dress. 

She missed fruit. She missed cake and sunlight. She missed all the things she had taken for granted. 

“Eat.”

She couldn’t. Always a risk of poison. Professor McGonagall would tell her to be wary. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“It’s not poisoned.”

He didn’t wait for her to believe him. Malfoy pointed his wand at a green apple and it fell apart into small slices. He took one and popped it into his mouth, chewing it slowly to demonstrate the fact that he wasn’t falling down dead. He then drank a sip from the water glass. 

“You don’t need to fear me. You’re the only one of your Order who can say that.”

She bit into a slice of apple, mirroring his actions. It was enough proof that she would start eating, apparently, because he rose, walking to a closet. 

“I have to go. I’ll be back tonight.” He hesitated, before continuing. “You won’t be disturbed. There are wards to protect you.”

She did not hide her scoff. And then, after donning a dark cloak and a Death Eater mask, he was gone from the tent. 

For a few minutes, Hermione feasted on the plate of fruit, nearly crying when she bit into a nectarine. These fruits were brought from overseas. Most of them were summer fruit and it was getting too cold for them to grow here in Scotland. She knew she should have taken it slowly, not having eaten that much at one time for months now. She didn’t care.

Then, when her stomach was blessedly full, she washed her meal down with the rest of the water, trying to avoid thinking of the way Malfoy’s mouth had curved around the very same glass. 

It had been a half a year since she had last set eyes on him. The Manor, at Easter. 

Her body shook with the memory of the Cruciatus, and she let herself look down at the _Mudblood_ scar staining her otherwise smooth skin. She hated to see it, and kept it covered under long shirts back at the castle. 

_His aunt leaning over her, the blade digging into her body._ In her pain, Hermione had let her eyes wander, desperately seeking out something to hold onto, something on which to focus her attention. His eyes didn’t meet hers. Her gaze fixed onto the back of his head as he stared into the fireplace. 

And then…

He had finally turned to look at her, like he heard her screaming his name in her mind. Were there tears in his eyes, or was she going crazy?

_Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco, help me, help me, help me, help me…_

But what could he have done?

Hermione knew if he, or anyone else, had gotten in the way of Bellatrix, they would have been dead on the floor beside her.. 

That was the last time she had seen him. 

She wondered if he was still the same boy he had been in school, the same spoiled child who had been spoon-fed horrible lies about Muggles and Muggle-borns. The same arrogant, beautiful jerk who liked to daydream at breakfast. The same intelligent student who was just behind her in marks. 

He looked the same. 

_Nearly_.

Half a year of being a soldier had made him stronger. Gone were the skinny arms and sallow cheeks. He was a fighter now. She had seen it in the muscles in his torso, and in the determined set of his jaw.

She let her mind drift.

He had been her first crush. 

Seven years ago, before he had called her a Mudblood, he had been the little boy she giggled over, the handsome face she searched for in between classes. 

And years later, knowing it was foolish and pathetic, she had been jealous to see Pansy Parkinson kissing him in corridors. She had cried when Harry used the Sectumsempra curse on him. She still held out hope when she realised that he wasn’t coming to save them.

She hated herself for caring for him. He was ghastly. Vile, just like his master. 

He had given them his word and then he swiftly broke it. 

He was a bad person. 

A sudden rush of nausea turned her stomach and she looked up, frantically searching for the washroom door. She made it just in time to stick her head in the toilet, before her meal was emptied from her stomach. 

_There are no bad people, just people who do bad things_. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. 

She pulled the flush and rinsed out her mouth in the sink, looking at herself in the washroom mirror. There was a purpling bruise on her cheekbone from the slap of the masked Death Eater. Maybe it had been one of her old classmates, or one of their fathers. 

Hermione was in some state odd of shock. She knew this. It was like limbo. Just a couple of hours ago, she had been eating breakfast with Harry and Ron, discussing the plan that was going into action. She was the lookout when the transfigured students went to scout the grounds, but luck was against them when Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini caught them. Hermione hadn’t expected Malfoy’s friends to be so sharp. She was wrong. 

When Nott was about to hurt Charlotte Belford, she hadn’t been able to stop herself. She had run into sight, begging her two former classmates to allow them freedom in exchange for her capture. It was a good trade, and it was done in a matter of seconds. Before Harry could be notified, before someone could rescue her. Her wand had gotten lost in the skirmish.

_“Tell them I won’t give up!” She had shouted to the students running back to the castle, their faces distorted with horror and fear as they watched their mentor getting bound and blindfolded. “Tell them I love them!”_

Hermione reentered the bedroom and took a look around. It was a spacious tent and she assumed that Nott had been telling the truth. Draco Malfoy was clearly a favourite of Voldemort.

_For doing what?_

She moved to the front door, but it was heavily warded, with no one able to get in. Or out. She turned away, knowing there was no hope in trying to escape. What had he said to her? 

_I won’t hurt you._

She walked around, aimlessly. He left no personal belongings lying about and she was afraid to touch the closet and desk lest they be spelled against intruders. 

There were books on his bedside table. She cautiously picked up a heavy nonfiction book about magic in the Roman Empire. It was one she had wanted to read for months, but never got around to. 

Being in the middle of a war got in the way of that. 

Hermione was unable to do much, so she resigned herself to a day of reading. Anything to pass the time and get her mind away from thinking about her probable death in this campsite. 

She didn’t know if Malfoy would mind her using his armchair, so she decided that the carpet was a safer option. Sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, she allowed herself to get lost in the pages. Avoiding reality for as long as she could.

One book, then two. 

Day fell away to night and she had no idea of how many hours had gone by. At some point, she ate a pear and managed not to throw up. When it was too dark to read, she put down her third novel. The ache in her body from fighting her captors was catching up to her. Sinking down, she rested her head against a small potions textbook and shut her eyes. _Maybe_ , she thought, _I’ll wake up and this will have been a dream._

She fell asleep within a minute. 

_ Eros _

Draco pulled off his mask and sighed as he stepped into his tent. 

He was looking forward to a bath and sleep, when he happened upon the girl curled into herself by his bed. 

_Hermione_. 

He had forgotten. Or perhaps, he had wished it to be some sort of horrible nightmare.

Coming closer, he saw that she had been reading. 

But…

Why had she fallen asleep on the floor? Surely the bed would be more comfortable. 

He carefully tapped her shoulder, and when she gave no response, he used his wand to gently levitate her into the large bed. He did not linger when he tucked her in, and resisted the urge to stroke her hair back from her face. 

He watched her torso rise and fall underneath the warm blanket and hoped she was comfortable. 

Draco felt relieved to see that some of the fruit had been eaten and he made a mental note to get her something more filling the next morning. Something rich and full of butter, since she was skin and bones.

He thought back to her laughing in the school courtyard with her friends, her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkling. The girl who used to sneak into the library when she couldn’t sleep, not knowing he was also up at night and roaming the castle. That girl was probably dead now. In her place lay a broken imitation of the Hermione Granger of his memories.

_When did it go wrong?_

Probably when he had to betray them. 

After he had left her that morning, his temper had grown. 

How could the Order risk her life when she was so precious? They were such fools. And she was such a reckless Gryffindor, sacrificing herself to save some stupid kids. The anger he felt battled with longing that was rising back to his heart, and it was a decidedly confronting mixture of emotions. 

_“You have to save her.” The night that Dumbledore died, he had crashed into Potter by a stroke of luck. The castle was in chaos, Death Eaters were swarming and he was running out of time._

_“Save who?”_

_“Grang—Hermione. Don’t let her get caught. They know how important she is to you.” He grabbed onto Potter’s sweater and shook him. “Promise me!”_

_“Why the bloody hell do you care, Malfoy?”_

_“It doesn’t matter. Forget about it.” There was an explosion and several screams from down the hall and they both winced. “Potter, listen to me. Don’t let her be the one who suffers your misfortune. Swear it.”_

_“I swear! I swear, I’ll keep her safe.” Potter had nodded, not quite understanding his enemy’s plea. That was okay, Draco had thought, as long as she was safe. As long as she was free._

Seeing her face again, after so long, had triggered the feelings he had quashed in an effort to keep her, and himself, safe from the Dark Lord. It had clearly been for naught, because all of his careful planning had gone to waste. She was his prisoner, and he would be expected to use her. 

Use her.

 _Fuck_. 

Bile rose in his throat and he grimaced, stalking over to the decanter of Firewhisky on his desk. It was enough of a burn to replace the ache in his heart. 

He read for an hour, raising his eyes to monitor Hermione every time her breathing changed or she whimpered in her sleep. Then, he decided that the bed was big enough for both of them to sleep without any chance of touching. He placed a wall of pillows along her side and changed into sleep clothes. Gingerly sliding onto the other side of the mattress, he hoped that she wouldn’t wake up until morning, before he could slip out of their shared bed.

Then, just as he realised that the scent of sweet, memory-triggering perfume was wafting up to him from her hair, sleep overtook him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you liking the story so far? Let me know what you think.
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> ❤️


	3. Hourglass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> It's a long chapter, so I'm sorry if you prefer shorter ones... I wrote it all this morning because I have a lot of anxiety and this is the only way I can work that out. 
> 
> My city has had a COVID breach (we had about twenty people in supervised quarantine and now we have some random cases in the city that haven't been traced) and we've gone into a lockdown - it's temporary but it's scary to know that things can change so quickly. 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, and thank you so much for the lovely comments on the last one. 
> 
> Enjoy! xx
> 
> Gilded Shivers drew a beautiful picture from a scene in this story, which can be viewed here: [X](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFImkx8KtN7/)

_ Psyche _

Hermione snuggled into the pillow and sighed, contentedly. She always woke up before dawn to go on her patrol around the upper three levels of the castle, but this morning, something was different. 

She felt well rested. 

She burrowed deeper into the bed, relishing in her last few minutes of relaxation before her wand alarm went off and—

Something was wrong. 

The scent of the pillow, the duvet. 

The _duvet_. 

It was not linen. It was…

Satin?

Her eyes shot open and she gasped. 

All of the previous day’s memories came back to her, hitting her mind like a wall of brick. The failed scouting mission, Nott and Zabini, offering herself in the place of the kids, Draco Malfoy…

Who was currently sleeping next to her, his face calmer than she had ever seen it. 

She wriggled herself upright, careful to make no noise. Reaching between her thighs, she checked for evidence of dried blood, or _worse_ , but found nothing suspicious. She certainly didn’t _feel_ sore, and at that revelation, her heart stopped stuttering in panic. It was a relief, but it was also surprising.

He hadn’t hurt her. 

_Yet_. 

Hermione cast her eyes around the room and found Draco’s clothes strewn across the floor. It was still early, there was a soft light inside the tent but the sun was not up yet. She slipped out of the bed and shivered at the cold sting of morning air. 

Glancing at his sleeping figure, she noticed that there were several pillows lined up down the bed.

A wall. 

She was confused now, more than anything. _How did she end up in the bed, and why did he separate them with so much care?_

Stepping over to his discarded boots, she sank to the floor and lifted his shirt, dipping her nose to the fabric. 

It smelt like ash.

_ Eros _

Draco bolted upright, gasping. Another nightmare. 

His eyes found the girl standing across the room, her eyes wide and full of fear. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” He held out his hand, palm upwards. His chest heaved as he pulled off the covers, standing and walking over to her.

Hermione just stood there by the dresser drawers, barefoot and wearing the _bloody awful_ dress. Awful, because it was what the sex slaves wore, and also because he could see every curve of her body. 

He pulled on a robe, and realising that she would be cold too, reached into his closet for another. 

“Here.”

She put it on without arguing and he felt guilty for not realising that she had been cold the previous day. Her cheeks were pink and her hair was mussed from sleep. It was a sight he had often imagined, but not under these circumstances. 

Looking at the dresser, he frowned. His clothes were neatly folded, his mask placed next to them. 

That wasn’t where he had left them. 

“Did you—,” he came to stand in front of her, “do this? Fold these?”

“I thought—,” her voice was still rough from sleep.

“What?”

She took a deep breath and he readied himself for a shouting.

“I don’t know how to make myself useful to you.”

There was silence. He felt sick.

“Granger—,”

_ Psyche _

“—how many times do I need to say this? I’m not going to hurt you. You’re not my slave.”

Hermione would have said something but she was too busy focusing on the fact that Draco Malfoy had finally called her by her name. 

Her last name, but, still. 

_Granger_. 

Just like school. 

“You’re not here to clean up after me.”

“Why don’t you let me go, then?”

“What, and get us both killed?”

He freshened up in the washroom and she waited, sitting on the carpet with the book she hadn’t finished. When he came out, he groaned. 

“Why are you on the bloody _floor_?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me sitting in your chair!” She couldn’t help raising her voice, letting the book fall to her lap as she did. This was Draco Malfoy and she was predestined to yell at him, war be damned. 

He bent and grabbed her hands, yanking her up. She squeaked as he did. 

“You slept in my bed! What does that tell you?!”

“I—,” she halted. Actually, she didn’t know. He saw it on her face.

“It means,” he sighed, inches away from her and still holding onto her hands, “that you are _safe_ here. You can read whatever you’d like, and eat as much as you want, and sit in the damned chair and sleep in my bed. You can do whatever you want.”

“Except leave.”

“I can’t risk it.”

“Can’t risk what?”

“YOU! I CAN’T RISK YOU!”

She shut her mouth. That certainly wasn’t where she thought this conversation would lead. Malfoy raked his hand through his hair and sighed. 

“Look,” he said, at a lower volume, “at some point soon - I don’t know when - he’s going to try and get into your mind to figure out what the Order had planned. The hourglass is basically empty, I don't know when he'll summon us.”

She didn’t need to ask who ‘ _he_ ’ was.

“Snape taught me Occlumency.” She blurted it out without thinking.

“What?”

His expression was one of pure shock. She liked knowing she could surprise him.

“He taught all of us in the Order, in case we’d need it.”

“So, you can—,”

“Occlude. Fully. He even taught us how to put false memories into place.”

She saw his shoulders relax and he shut his eyes, relieved. 

“Thank Salazar.”

_ Eros _

Blaise brought a platter of pastries. They were in a war, but there was always the privilege of being in Voldemort's inner circle. They stood outside the tent, chatting for a few minutes.

“Thanks for the food, man. She needs to eat something. I don’t think she’s had more than one meal a day for the past few months.”

“How is she, then?”

“ _Don’t_.”

“No, mate. I mean it. Theo let that Camley fellow mess her up pretty badly. I didn’t see it happen, but she must have been in poor shape after.”

Draco always forgot that Blaise knew his secret. 

“She’s okay. I healed her as best I could, but some of the bruises aren’t going to fade for a while.” He shut his eyes. “She’s scared out of her wits that, at any moment, I’m going to rip off her dress and rape her.”

“Are you?”

He glared at his friend. 

“Do you think I would?”

Blaise shook his head, wryly.

“Just don’t let him think for a second that she’s comfortable, okay? The minute he sees what you feel for her, she’s dead. _You’re_ dead. We don’t get out of this.”

“We need to get her back to them.”

“No, mate. Not yet. She doesn’t know about—,” he gestured and Draco shook his head.

“No. Never. She thinks I hate her.”

“Ohh, you mean from the years of bullying?”

“If you’re not going to be helpful—,”

“Sorry, sorry, just teasing. Seriously, though. You need to tell her.”

“What will that solve?”

“Maybe if she knows, then she won’t be so scared.” Blaise straightened and nodded as several soldiers walked past. Draco shook his head.

“I can’t tell her.”

“She’s our only hope, Draco.”

_ Psyche _

Hermione eyed the pastries with longing. Draco had come in with them a few minutes ago and they were tempting her. Croissants. Harry’s favourite. Pains au chocolat. Ron’s favourite. Apricot danishes. Her favourite.

Malfoy and Zabini were outside the tent, still talking. She was sitting at his desk chair and the plate was right in front of her. She leaned closer to the warm pastries and inhaled. 

_Sugar_. 

It was a memory of the old days, the breakfasts at Hogwarts before the war. Suddenly, she felt very homesick. For the castle, for her friends. Her parents were still far away, but she missed them too. 

“Go ahead, you shouldn’t have waited.” Draco ducked into the tent, nodding at the plate. “Have as much as you want.”

She picked an apricot danish from the pile and bit into it, shooing away the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. She didn’t want him to see her cry. He busied himself by getting ready for his day, and when he exited the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, she choked on her second pastry. She twisted away from him in her seat at his desk, not wanting to catch his eye. Not wanting him to see her go red. 

Death Eater or not, he was still handsome.

“Sorry. I’ll just—,” he grabbed clothes from the wardrobe and rushed back into the bathroom. Twice in two days, Hermione had seen his bare chest. 

_Stop thinking about him like that._

_He betrayed us._

_Stop it._

When he came back out, fully clothed, she watched him pluck a croissant from the pile. 

“Usually, I go and eat in the dining tent with the others, but I don’t think they’ll mind me staying here.”

_With you._

She tried not to think of the insinuation, instead, focusing on a question that had been fraying the edges of her mind. 

“Why did you put me into your bed?”

He froze, just about to bite into the croissant. 

“Er—,” he lowered the pastry and looked at her with a crease in between his brows, “you were on the floor.”

“Yes.”

He looked at her like he wasn’t understanding her line of questioning, and she supposed that he may not have thought as deeply about the act of kindness as she had.

“You fell asleep on the floor. I guess you were reading, so I just put you in the bed. I wasn’t about to let you lie on the carpet all night. You’d have woken up with the worst neck pain.”

She fell silent and contemplatively stared down at the flakes of pastry in front of her.

Who was this Draco Malfoy, and why was he acting like he had a personality transplant?

_ Eros _

Draco managed to shrink some sweatpants with a delicately cast _Reducio_ , and found a warm wooden sweater tucked into the back of his closet. He heard the shower turn off and quickly folded the clothes, hastily making his way to the washroom door. 

He raised a hesitant hand and knocked thrice. 

There was a silence and then the door opened. Hermione stuck her head out, suspicion on her face. 

“Yes?”

He could only see her bare neck and the dark, wet curls around her head, but it was enough for his cheeks to flame. 

He averted his eyes and held the clothes out in front of himself. 

“I thought these would be more comfortable.”

Another silence, and he risked a glance in her direction. She wasn’t looking at the clothes, but directly up at him, and her eyes were wide. 

“I, uh—,” she reached out one hand around the door and grabbed hold of the clothes, “thank you—,”

“No, it’s not, uh, don’t—,”

“—for the clothes.”

“—mention it.”

They stared at each other for two seconds longer before she shut the door and he was left there with the ghost of shower steam still curling around his face. 

When she emerged five minutes later, he glanced up from his book to see Hermione Granger looking a lot more like herself than she had done for the past twenty-four hours. The clothes were loose but they would keep her comfortable and warm, more so than the green nightdress.

“Are you going away again?”

“Oh,” he put the book down and stood, “uh, no. Not today. We have a rest day every two weeks.”

“A rest? From doing what?”

He felt shame course through his body. This wasn’t something he wanted her to know. 

“Just—,” he shrugged, “things, you know? Tasks set out by the Dark Lord.”

“Like killing innocent people.”

There it was. 

He bowed his head. 

“Look, I’m not trying to justify who I am—,”

“Good, because it’s a waste of ti—,”

“—but I’m trying to keep you safe and I need you to put aside all the rest of it for right now.”

“Why, Malfoy?”

His heart clenched in his chest at her use of his name. He hadn’t heard it out of her mouth in so long. Before he could say anything, she kept going. 

“I am your prisoner here. I don’t get to be with my friends and the people I love because of this bloody war, and I’m a prisoner in the very camp of soldiers who are trying to kill us all! I’m scared, I’m angry and I want to go home!”

“You think I don’t want to be free of this fucking war?!” He stepped up to her, uncaring that he was towering over her small body. “You think I wanted to be in this position? You think I _like_ being his errand boy?”

“Why are you, then?” She lifted her chin up, defiant. He should have known she wouldn’t have cowered.

“Because—,” he stopped. She didn’t need to know. Not yet. 

“ _Because_?” 

_ Psyche _

He shut his eyes and she watched his face go from angry to despairing within a second. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“How can I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t.”

And it was true. She shouldn’t have trusted him, this man who stood before her with his silver eyes and determined mouth. 

But… 

A small, irritating corner of her heart was calling out to her.

_I do trust you._

She shook her head and turned away. 

_I’ve always trusted you._

“I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“This,” she gestured between them, the sleeve of his jumper so long that it flopped around as she waved her hand back and forth, “arrangement. Me being your unwilling house guest. I don’t know how to do it.”

“You like to read, why don’t you do that?”

“You’ve got about ten books, Malfoy.” She cast her eyes towards the small stacks on his desk and bedside table. “I’ll be done with them in the next three days.”

“I can get you more.”

“And aside from books? What do you expect me to do?”

“I can’t let you go out of this tent, you know that. The minute you do, you’ll be in danger again.”

“ _Wait_.” A sudden thought crossed her mind. “Are there any other women here?”

His expression turned stormy within the time it took her to take a breath and she wondered what her question stoked inside him. 

“None.”

“You’re lying.”

She had lived with Harry and Ron for long enough to know when boys were lying to her. 

“I’m not.”

“ _Malfoy_.”

He sighed and gave in, the same way Harry and Ron would when she pressured them.

“Fine. The Death Eaters from lower ranks trade the women they capture.”

“Trade women? What women?”

“Muggle-borns. Prisoners of war from the wider war.”

“They trade them? In what way—,”

“As sex slaves, Granger. They’re slaves.”

If he expected her to be angry, she would surprise him. She wasn’t angry. Just surprised. 

“Why would they have sex with Muggle-borns when they think we’re all dirty?”

He raised an eyebrow, before shrugging his shoulders.

“At the end of the day, it’s all semantics. They want warm bodies in their beds.”

“So they’re willing to go to war to wipe out Muggle-borns and blood traitors, but they don’t mind sharing bodily fluids with them.”

“You’re saying _‘they’_ a lot, like you think I’m not one of them.”

That took her by surprise and she couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past her lips.

“You? You partake in those activities?”

Now he looked ashamed and she felt ice water pouring into her veins. Because of the sex slave issue, not because he was sleeping with other women. 

“Not willingly. I’m not in the business but I—,” he looked down, breaking off. “I don’t do it willingly.”

“Excuse me?” She felt a temper rising in her chest. “Not willingly?"

“The Dark Lord makes them come to our tents once or twice a month. He thinks it’s a morale booster. It’s not something you can refuse.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She placed a hand over her heart in a mock-empathetic way. “It must be so difficult to have to say no to having sex with unwilling girls and women who have been taken as prisoners of war and are being forced into sexual slavery.”

“You don’t understand. They get killed if they aren’t used. There’s a knife that all the slave traders carry to cut their unwanted girls’ throats.”

She tried not to focus on the horror of the statement.

“Why? Why not use magic?”

“It’s an _‘undeservingly honourable death for Mudblood scum’_ , as I’ve been told.”

She thought over it for a minute, feeling nauseous. The look on his face made her realise that he had seen this happen. Many times. 

“ _Regardless_ —,”

“It’s the past, Granger. Please leave it there. He won’t be sending any more girls now.”

“Now that you have _me_ here.”

“Yes.”

“How did we get here, Malfoy? You, a Death Eater and the apparent favourite of the most horrible, dangerous wizard in the world, and me, your prisoner?”

“Bad luck?”

She almost laughed. 

_ Eros _

Draco studied her from where she sat in the armchair, her feet tucked underneath her. She turned a page and smiled down at the book. It was late morning and they had settled into a comfortable silence.

He looked away, back at his own book. He had read the same three sentences for the past half an hour.

There was nothing much to do in the tent. He was definitely not about to suggest they place a game of Exploding Snap. Before her arrival, he spent most of his free time outdoors. That wasn’t a possibility for her, and he wouldn’t let her be stuck here alone if he could help it. No matter what she felt about him. 

He didn’t regret telling her about the slaves. It was her right to know, and it was also her right to judge him. 

He hated himself more than she ever would. 

There was a tap at the door. She looked up and he saw her shrink into the chair in fear.

“Who is it?”

“Me.” Blaise said, and Draco lifted his wand to open the door. Blaise stuck his head in and his eyes searched for Hermione. He nodded at her, smiling softly. 

“Hiya, Granger.” 

She did not return the smile.

“What is it?” Draco asked, knowing the answer that was coming. 

“Show time. Ten minutes.”

“Fuck.”

“Don’t worry. He’s busy. Just got back here for the night and he’s leaving in the morning. He’s not going to do anything.”

“You think he’s not going to hurt her?”

“You and I both know he’s too weak for it.”

At this, Draco saw Hermione’s head perk up in interest. _Yes. Listen. Remember all of this._

“Is she with him?”

Blaise glanced towards Hermione before looking him in the eye, shaking his head. 

“No. Back at headquarters.” Malfoy Manor.

“Right. We’ll be there soon.”

When Blaise had let them, he saw Hermione start to shake.

“Don’t be nervous. He’s not going to hurt you.”

“Oh, _really_? He knows who I am, Malfoy. He’s going to try and get whatever information he can out of me.”

Draco shook his head. 

“He’s already gotten everything he needs. He’s in Potter’s head most of the time. This isn’t about the castle. It’s about the wand.”

“Right.”

“And anyway, he’s become quite mad.”

“Mad? Really?” This was news to her, he could see that in her eyes. 

“Mad. Obsessed. The desperation for power is distorting everything. His ability to think straight.”

“I wouldn’t have thought he could lose focus from Harry.”

“The war is screwing with his mind. Theo told me that he doesn’t think you could possibly have any information that he wants. That’s why he let me—,” he hesitated, “keep you.”

“So…I’m safe?” He wanted to cry at the hope in her voice.

“We have to go and find that out now.”

She stared up at him and he wanted, more than anything, to give her some comfort. A hug, a kiss on the forehead. Something to stop her eyes from shining with unshed tears.

“Why are you doing all this, Malfoy?”

“What do you mean?”

“Helping me. Why are you risking your life?”

“Because,” he sighed, closing his eyes, “I failed you the last time. I owe you this, and more.”

It was only half the truth but he didn’t want to confess the rest at this moment.

She nodded and looked down for a moment, tugging on her sweater..

“You have to rip my clothes.”

“What?”

“Rip them. Tear them. Make it look like you’ve used me as your personal punching bag.”

“What’s a punching bag?”

“Just ruin them!”

He did as she asked and lifted his wand, slashing cuts into the cloth. 

“I’ll fix it all when we get back.”

“I know.”

When her clothes were satisfactorily destroyed, he put his wand down. There were rips and cuts all along the legs of the sweatpants and the sweater hung off her shoulder, exposing a pale, freckled shoulder. He lifted his gaze to meet hers. 

“You look okay.”

She chuckled, mirthlessly.

“I shouldn’t look okay. I should look awful.”

He didn’t like where this was going.

“Granger—,”

“Hurt me.”

“No.” No, never. 

“Just a few scratches and cuts.”

“NO! I WILL NOT!”

She looked taken aback and he glared at her. 

“It has to be convincing. You haven’t raped me, so you have to make it look like you’re beating me instead.”

“I can’t just abuse you like that. I won’t do it.” Never. They could _Avada_ him before he raised a wand to her with the intent to harm.

She stepped up to him and her small hand reached out, encircling his wrist. She raised it so his wand was once again pointed at her, poking her in her sternum.

“Don’t you see? If you don’t, he will do _so_ much worse.”

“I can’t.” The two syllables were so broken that they were barely words. She sighed. 

“Then let me.”

She took his wand, and he released it. Lifting it up to her face, he winced as she sliced a cut from her cheek to her jaw. She repeated the action across her collarbone and again across her legs in several places. 

“Does it look good enough?”

“It’s fine.” He grunted, watching little drops of blood thud against the carpet. “Now, you’d better put that Occlumency training to good use, Granger.”

She laughed and held out his wand.

“I could say the same about you.”

“And,” he took the wand, “you need to know this as well. Voldemort isn’t important anymore. He’s the figurehead. It’s the top tier Death Eaters that hold power. You need to show zero weakness in front of his soldiers.”

“Right.”

He really hoped she was retaining all of this information.

“Ready?”

She nodded, swallowing. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Let me know in the comments, I love to read them. 
> 
> Stay safe, everyone ❤️
> 
> xx nztina


	4. Succeed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, friends!
> 
> Here's chapter 4 for you. I had a migraine all day but I really wanted to write this out so I did just that tonight. I think my best time for writing is between 10 pm and 11 pm. You'll be getting a lot of Draco's POV for this and the next chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this part of the story! Or maybe not, I had some of my lovely readers telling me they were anxious for this chapter...Fingers crossed that this doesn't make you too anxious!
> 
> Gilded Shivers drew a beautiful picture from a scene in this story, which can be viewed here: [X](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFImkx8KtN7/)

_ Eros _

He stepped into the Dark Lord’s tent first, letting go of her hand as he did. He knew that Hermione was Occluding, and he was deep within his own mind as well. Neither of them could risk Voldemort finding out the truth. 

She followed behind him, and he sincerely hoped that her walls were firmly up. If there was a chink in her armour, Voldermort would find it. He was going crazy but he was still a psychotic bastard, and he found lucid moments of clarity within the insanity. Merlin knew what he would do to Hermione if he found a weak spot. 

“Draco, my boy.” The man clapped his hands together, smiling grotesquely. “How was Buenos Aires?”

“Good, thank you, sir. Your soldiers did well.”

“I hear you performed above and beyond for the great cause.”

“Thank you, sir.” He bowed his head, answering mechanically. “It is you who inspires me to succeed.”

“Your aunt must be very proud.”

“Yes, my lord, I believe she is.” Draco hesitated over the question burning in his mind and decided that it was worth the risk to ask. “Actually, sir, I was hoping you might tell me how my mothe—,”

“Patience, Draco, patience.”

A soft, menacing chuckle floated down to him and he looked up to see his master’s attention divert to the girl behind him. He balled his fists to stop himself from grabbing her hand.

“Who are you hiding there, Draco?”

“Oh, yes, my lord, you know Her—,”

“Hermione Granger, the Mudblood.”

The way he said ‘ _Mudblood_ ’ made Draco wince, remembering his own days of blind prejudice; the way he spat the slur at Hermione with no care for her feelings. Before, when he believed that there was such a thing as blood purity. 

“Yes, my lord.”

“Come closer, Miss Granger.”

Draco felt her shift to stand next to him. He gave her a sideways glance and then looked very intently at the floor before raising his eyes back up to meet hers. She seemed to catch on, because she sank to the floor on her knees, head bent. 

“Ah, I see you’ve taught her some manners.”

“Yes, my lord.”

_ Psyche _

“Now, Miss Granger, let me look at you.”

Hermione lifted her head and trained her gaze on Voldemort’s bony hand, the one clutching at his wand like it was his lifeline. All of a sudden, he was pushing into her mind and she felt it like a cool trickle of water running down her spine. 

Thankfully, she was so deep into her Occlusion that she could barely feel the disgust swirling in her stomach. She concentrated on the false memories in her mind. Snape was nothing if not thorough and he had brutally trained them all to excel in Occlumency. 

_You succeed, or you die, Miss Granger. Now close your mind._

_Succeed or die._

_Succeed or die._

_Close your mind._

“I see you have been torturing her.”

“Yes.”

“And do you use her in _other_ ways?”

“Not yet, my lord.”

“Not yet?”

“No, I—,” she felt him hesitate and willed him to sound confident, “I am biding my time. The longer I wait, the more she fears me.”

There were several appreciative chuckles from within the room and Hermione realised for the first time that they were not alone. Death Eaters. All of the ones Draco had told her to fool as well. 

“Good. Good.”

She felt Voldemort’s Legilimency leave her mind and she breathed out what she hoped was an inaudible sigh of relief. 

Then, cool fingers were lifting her chin and she looked up to see her worst nightmare staring down at her with serpentine eyes and a predatory smile. The hand touching her was the one that had killed so many.

“She is a beauty.” 

“Yes, my lord.” Draco’s voice soothed at her frayed nerves.

“Oh, but you would do wisely not to fall in love with one as lovely as this.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“A shame that such pulchritude is wasted in blood so filthy. Heed my advice, Draco. Sirens are beautiful but they have sharp teeth.”

“Of course, my lord. She is good for nothing other than her body.”

She tried to tell herself that the words did not sting but her eyes betrayed her and Voldemort saw. He laughed with childlike glee and grasped her jaw, pulling her face to Draco.

“See! You have hurt her! Look! Look at this pathetic little animal.”

Draco’s eyes were panicked and she blinked away her tears. _It was for show, Hermione, for show. He didn’t mean it._

“My lord, if it pleases you, I shall leave you to rest after your journey.”

Voldemort let go of her face and she slumped down, relieved to be away from his touch. 

“Yes, yes. You may go. Come for the feast tonight.”

“Feast, my lord?”

“To celebrate our victory in Argentina.”

“Of course. I would be honoured.”

“Good. Now, be off. I have much to do.”

Draco bowed and she felt him tugging on her elbow, urging her up and away. 

_ Eros _

He dragged her through the door and watched her snap out of her haze. As she did, her knees buckled and he had barely enough time to register that she was falling before he caught her, slowing her drop to the floor. 

“Easy, don’t exert yourself.”

“He was awful. You were right, he’s going crazy.”

“Yeah.”

“How have you survived up to now?”

He couldn’t tell her. She would never look at him again.

“You don’t want to know.”

She looked up at him with tormented eyes and nodded. 

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“I’m sorry about what I—,”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulled out his wand and gently nudged her over to the armchair. She sat, obligingly, and he performed a set of healing charms over her face and body, finally finishing by repairing her clothing. She ran her fingers over the place on her knee where, minutes before, there had been a large gash. 

“What can I do for you? Do you want food? A drink?”

She shook her head, pulling away from his hand on her arm. He removed it, a flush staining his cheeks. 

“I just want to sleep.”

So she did. 

Hermione slept for six hours, and Draco worriedly checked on her every fifteen minutes. He cast enough diagnosis charms to know that she was merely worn out from exertion. Still, every time her breathing quietened or her chest did not rise and fall visibly, he was at her side, with his wand out and running tests over her body, anxious not to lose her. 

He thought back to the day the castle sealed shut. Her face in his mind, desperately begging him to help them. He knew he had to choose and he chose for one of the two loves of his life. He chose and Hermione, along with the rest of them, had suffered. 

His last conversation with Severus Snape had been the very last time he had been in contact with the Order.

_“Draco, it will be simple, stop fretting. You just need to get to us before they advance and we’re trapped.”_

_“And how do I do that? I can’t exactly walk through the front gates.”_

_“No, but there’s a secret passage that leads into the dungeons.”_

_“The dungeons?”_

_“You don’t know it. It's a secret for a reason.”_

_“So, what’s the plan?”_

_“You have to make it to the entrance by noon. It will be destroyed after that.”_

_“I don’t know if I can. What if I’m followed? I can’t be sure that I’ll make it.”_

_“You will.”_

_“I—,”_

_“She’s fine.”_

_“What?”_

_“She’s fine. She recovered after the Manor.”_

_“I told you to stop reading my mind.”_

_“I told you to Occlude well. You’re letting yourself down by being so easy to read. What did I tell you? You succeed or—,”_

_“You die. I know.”_

_“Focus, Draco. She’s counting on you. We are all counting on you.”_

_“You know, I wouldn’t have expected you to approve of this.”_

_“What, having feelings for Miss Granger?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Try not to screw this up, Draco. Witches like her don’t come around all that often.”_

_“What—,”_

_“And you know, being cruel to her will only end up with you watching her fall in love with someone else.”_

_“I—,”_

_“And if you’re not careful, she’ll die too soon and it will haunt you for the rest of your life.”_

_“Professor?”_

_“Sorry. I, uh, got lost for a moment there.”_

_“Who are you talking ab—,”_

_“Come on, you’d better get back. No need to keep him waiting.”_

_“Oh. Right. Okay. See you, sir.”_

_“Courage, Draco. Have courage and faith.”_

When night fell, Draco watched Hermione stirring as he finished buttoning his shirt. She sat up as he was putting on his cloak.

“What’s going on?” Her voice was thick with sleep and confusion.

“I’m off to the feast.”

“Oh.” She shifted, uncomfortably. “Do _I_ have to—,”

“No. I wouldn’t put you through that. You can stay and sleep. I’ll be back in a few hours, and I’ll bring you something from dinner. There’s some toast and tea on the desk for you. It’s under a Stasis charm so you can eat it whenever you feel like it.”

“Okay.”

“You really should eat. You didn’t have any lunch.”

“Thank you for letting me stay here. I don’t want to ever see him again.”

At the fear in her voice, he couldn’t help stepping over to where she sat, the blanket pooled around her waist. A part of him wanted to wrap his arms around her and go to sleep with her body pressed against his. 

That wasn’t an option. 

“As long as you’re here, I can protect you.”

He saw conflict cross over her face but she nodded, pushing her hair back from her eyes. 

“I’ll be okay.”

“See you soon.”

As he turned to go, she grabbed onto his hand and he froze in place. Slowly, he looked back to her and saw the panic in her eyes.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.”

“I know. It’s just—,”

“What?”

She shrugged and squeezed his hand.

“I just have a bad feeling about tonight.”

“Don’t worry. You’re safe in this tent. Go to sleep after you eat and I’ll be back before you know it.”

She nodded and he knew that his words were doing little to soothe her worry. 

He let go of her hand and it killed him to do so. All he really wanted was to tell her the truth. 

He didn’t turn to glance at her when he exited the tent, knowing that one look at her sweet face would render him unable to leave her. 

As he approached the large bonfire in the middle of the camp, he could hear the roar of voices and music coming from the feast. Sitting around the fire were Death Eaters of all ranks; foot soldiers to high-ranking generals who did little more than drink and discuss battle manoeuvres. 

Tables laden with food had been set up for dinner by the house elves that kept the camp running. All of the seating faced towards a large table on a platform, which seated the higher ups - and Voldemort. He was drinking from a large goblet and leering at the slave sitting next to him on Dolohov’s lap. 

“Hey, mate. Drink?” Blaise pressed a glass of Firewhisky into Draco’s palm, nodding as he angled him toward a quiet spot. 

“Hey.”

“How is she? What happened?”

“Nothing, as far as I can tell. He used Legilimency on her but she Occluded.”

“Convincingly enough?”

“I think so. Snape taught her.”

“She okay?”

“She’s been sleeping ever since we got back. She’s probably asleep right now.”

“Fuck, I forgot how bad it is when he does it.”

“He may be a mad man but he’s thorough when he wants to be.”

“I’ll try and get her something sweet tomorrow. I’ll be in Italy to look over the accounts.”

“Chocolate, if you can manage it. She likes chocolate.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, eyeing Draco knowingly.

“And you know that from, what? Watching her across the Great Hall every time she ate dessert?”

“Maybe.”

“Merlin’s balls, you’re not even going to _try_ and deny it?”

“Why bother hiding it from you?” Draco took a large swig of his drink. “You’re on my side.”

A hush descended over the crowd and both men looked toward where Voldemort had risen to stand at the large table, his arms spread wide. 

“Gentlemen. Thank you all for coming tonight, as we celebrate together.”

There was a loud clamour of cheers.

“Just an hour ago, it was brought to my attention, dear friends,” Voldemort searched the crowd and his gaze settled upon Draco, “that my companion has escaped from my residence.”

There were audible gasps throughout the gathering. Everyone started murmuring, theorising the possibility of escaping from the Manor.

Draco felt a buzz in his ears. His companion. Escaped. His companion. 

Escaped. 

_Mother_. 

“No matter, no matter. She was getting to be rather boring, as it happened. I think it is only fitting that she be replaced.”

And suddenly, the hope in Draco’s heart was replaced by the chill of pure dread. Voldemort looked at him again, a sneer curling at his mouth. 

_Hermione._

“Guards!’

And then, Draco turned to see two heavy-set Death Eaters, dressed in full regalia, dragging Hermione through the crowd and up to the table where Voldemort was standing. It was a kick in the gut to see her small, fragile body being manhandled in such a rough way. As she passed Draco, her eyes grew wide and he willed himself not to kill the guards right there and then. 

_No emotion._

_Emotion, and she dies._

He watched her get pulled up to Voldemort and thrown on the ground in front of him. The crowd laughed. 

“What do you say? A fine trophy?”

Glasses were raised, men jeered. Draco nearly broke his wand in half. 

He watched Voldemort walk around the table to stand above Hermione, and he begged the gods to protect her. He desperately hoped that her walls were up. 

“I have grown bored of this night. I think it’s time we left, don’t you?” His master asked his men. They started to cheer and clap, and before Draco could take one step forward, Voldemort had clamped his hand down into Hermione’s curls and Apparated her away with him.

He looked to Blaise and realised that his friend’s face mirrored his own in horror. 

“Draco—,”

He wasn’t listening. He was too busy staring at the space where she had just been. Everything had gone to hell. She was in Voldemort’s possession and he had failed her, yet again. Her eyes. Her beautiful eyes, looking at him, beseeching him to come to her aide, just like the day she had been tortured in his home.

“Draco, hold up—,”

He spun and Blaise had to hold out his hands to stop from smacking into him.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Mate—,”

“I promised her that she was safe in my tent. I fucking promised her. She _told_ me she felt off about tonight. I said she would be safe and now I’ve lost her. How did they get past the _fucking wards_?!”

“He won’t touch her, you know that.”

“How do I know that, Blaise? _How_?!”

“He doesn’t—,” Blaise stuttered, still panicked from the quick turn of the evening, “he doesn’t do that sort of thing with—,”

“My mother. My poor mother was his—,” he screwed up his face in disgust, “his _plaything_ for months. Fuck knows what she went through! Maybe she was raped, maybe she was beaten. She escaped barely an hour ago and he had to go and replace her with the _only_ other person that I—"

He froze. Blaise’s mouth fell open and his eyebrows shot into his hairline. Draco looked away, gritting his teeth.

“Mate.”

“Fuck off, Blaise.”

“You _love_ her? I thought you just had a crush on her! You sly dog!”

“Fuck _off_ , Blaise.”

“When did it start?”

“I don’t know.”

“Piss off. You remember everything.”

“Fine. Fourth year.”

“Yule Ball?”

“How do you know?”

“If you think you were the only one who saw her that night, you’re barking. Theo anonymously sent her red roses for two months afterward. Hell, even I had a few raunchy dreams about her in that dre—,” Blaise broke off when Draco levelled him with a glare. "But, I mean, that was in the past, mate. I’m not still lusting after her or anything. Swear.”

“Do we have to discuss this now? I mean—,” Draco let the glass in his hand slip to the ground. It thudded against the damp earth before cracking in half. “How the fuck did this happen? She was sleeping in my bed _ten minutes ago_ and now she’s being held prisoner in my old home, with her worst enemy doing Merlin-knows-what to her.” He tried to stop thinking of her being assaulted by Voldemort and his heart plummeted. 

“Don’t focus on that part.” Blaise said, patting his shoulder. “So you love her. Okay. What do we do now?”

“We have to save her.”

“We can’t, man. She’s stuck there until he grows bored of her.”

“What if he doesn’t? What if she becomes like my mother, just trapped there _forever_?”

“Your mother escaped.”

“And that means Hermione will _never_ escape. He won’t risk losing another prisoner. He won’t look weak again..”

“But, at least your mother is free, right? She’s smart enough to disappear without a trace. That’s the positive here, yeah?”

“At what cost, Blaise? She goes free and I lose Hermione?”

“Look, right now, he thinks he’s taken your prize toy. It’s a game. It’s punishment for your mother escaping. He doesn’t know what she means to you, so we have to keep it that way.”

Draco turned away.

“I let her down. I let her down and she’s paying for it.”

He punched a tree and watched the blood from his knuckles drip to the moss-covered ground.

Fuck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read the Iliad or watched Troy (the film), you will know why I made old Voldy take Hermione away from Draco. 
> 
> Don't worry, things won't be so bleak for too much longer. A happy ending is promised, right? 
> 
> As a side question, how is everyone liking Blaise so far?
> 
> Tell me what you think of this chapter in the comments! ❤️
> 
> P.S. Can anyone guess why this chapter is called "Succeed"? It's not what it seems at first glance.


	5. Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, just a warning - there's a whole lot of cussing in this chapter.
> 
> Gilded Shivers drew a beautiful picture from a scene in this story, which can be viewed here: [X](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFImkx8KtN7/)

_ Eros _

It was midnight when he finally stormed back to his tent, his fists bloodied and his mind cloudy with anger. 

Her _eyes_. 

He couldn’t stop replaying the moment over in his head. She was there, and then gone. Harry Potter would have _Avada_ ’d him for his carelessness. Blaise had promised him they would get her back. If only Draco could believe it. 

Hermione was gone, and he didn’t know if he would ever see her again. 

When he finally crawled into his bed, after drinking enough alcohol to dull the ache, he slept on her pillow. It smelled like her and he let a few tears slip down his face before sleep took over.

x

He spent four days in his tent, surviving on apples and Firewhisky. Blaise returned from Italy to find Draco curled up in his bed, sullen and unresponsive. 

“Come on, mate.”

“No.”

“You have orders from the council.”

“Fuck the council.

“Mate, she’s okay.”

At this, Draco pulled himself up as if he was hooked up with marionette strings. Tossing off the duvet, he stood. 

“What have you heard?”

“She’s okay. He’s treating her like a guest. Not a prisoner.”

At this, Draco’s heart started to beat faster. 

“Guest?”

“Like a trophy. She’s just being kept in a random bedroom.” Blaise rummaged through the wardrobe and fished out some clothes. 

“So it—,” Draco hestitated, unsure what he would do with the truth, “it’s not like—,”

“Your mother?”

“Yeah?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Merlin knows. Half the time, he’s okay. The other half, he’s acting like a fucking child, mate. I had a meeting with him, Dolohov and Rudolphus Lestrange about the state of their assets an hour ago and he giggled through the whole thing.”

Momentarily distracted from Hermione, Draco raised his eyebrows. Blaise nodded. 

“Fuck.”

“It’s only a matter of time before they overthrow him. Seriously. I think Theo’s dad is trying to rally his friends.”

He raked a hand through his hair and shut his eyes, thinking. 

“We need to get the Snitch to Potter.”

“We do.” Blaise threw the clothes at Draco, who, using zero percent of his Seeker skills, let them hit him in the torso. 

“But first, I need to get her back from him. I can’t risk her being at the Manor when everything goes down. It’s too far away. I couldn’t guarantee her safety.”

His friend walked over to sit on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his elbows resting on his thighs. 

“Look, we don’t have many options right now. It’s just a waiting game—,”

“Until what, exactly? Do you think he’s going to get bored of having Hermione _fucking_ Granger as his little prize? What happens if she’s rude to him and he hurts her? Let’s be honest, she’s such a fucking Gryffindor that she’d probably try to off him herself. Or what if he forces her to—,” he couldn’t continue, the horror of imagining Voldemort forcing himself upon the girl he loved silencing him into a quiet hell. 

“Mate, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know you felt like this about her until a few days ago.”

“I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t realise that I—,” he trailed off, again unable to stop picturing her so far away and in so much danger. 

“I get it.”

“You do?” The disbelief in his voice was hard to mask. Blaise sighed and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small object and holding it out. Draco took it, peering down at the small threaded bracelet decorated with— 

“Are these feet?!”

“Rabbits feet. Not real ones. It’s for luck.”

Draco raised his eyes to frown at Blaise, who was nervously picking at the blanket. 

“Who is it? Who does this belong to?”

“Luna.”

“Lovegood?”

“Yes.”

“Luna _‘I Lost My Shoes Again_ ’ Lovegood?”

“You don’t have to be a dick abou—,” Blaise reached out a hand to smack him. 

“No, man. Stop! Don’t slap me, idiot. Seriously.” Draco held up his palms, fighting a grin as he handed back the trinket. “When did this happen?”

“Back when we were in fifth.”

“Seriously? Fifth? Wasn’t that when—,”

“When we were all being arseholes and getting them into trouble with Umbridge. Yep.”

“How?”

“She was sleep walking one night and she was about to fall down a staircase. I caught her before she could. She woke up and asked me why I was walking around at night.” He smiled at the memory. Draco frowned.

“Why _were_ you walking around at night?”

“I used to get night terrors, so I was pretty much an insomniac for most of fourth and fifth. Wasn’t allowed to take potions, you know, ‘cause they’re—,”

“Addictive—,”

“And we just ended up talking.” Blaise looked down at the bracelet with a smile. “Never stopped talking after that. We’d write letters to each other over holiday breaks. I don’t know, it was just a friendship at first, and I was fine with that, but then one day, it wasn’t.”

“What changed?”

“I did.”

Draco nodded and looked down at the half-folded trousers lying across his lap. 

“Sorry. I didn’t know."

“No one knew. It was sort of the point.”

“And you still—,” 

“I still love her, yeah. But I broke up with her. Badly. Told her that I didn’t want to be with her.”

This made his head shoot up. 

“Why? Why would you let her go?”

“In case this all goes tits up and I don’t make it. I didn’t want her loving a dead man.”

x

Blaise walked into the clearing near the large gathering tent, where Adrian Pucey was speaking with his father in hushed tones. The older Pucey jabbed a warning finger into his son’s chest and marched off, leaving the younger man standing alone. Blaise took the opportunity to walk up to his old school friend. 

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“What was that about?” Blaise gestured to the direction of the place where Adrian’s father had just gone.

“Fuck me, man. He’s such a dickhead.”

“What did he do?”

“Told me I’m gonna marry some snotty bitch who’s just graduating from Beauxbatons this year.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Yeah, well, according to him, I have no choice.”

“Mate, not to draw focus away from your suffering, but I was hoping I could ask a favour from you.”

Adrian eyed him warily. Understandably. 

“What is it?”

“I need you to do that thing you swore you’d never do again.”

His friend grimaced and turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. 

“You just had to double down on the piss poor day I’m having and tell me Operation Double Agent is back on, huh? Fuck you, man.”

It was said with very little ill-intent but Blaise knew he was asking a lot from Adrian. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck changed?”

“Didn’t you hear?”

“Hear what? I’ve been stuck in bloody Düsseldorf for the past month reviewing the status of Western European prisoners for the Almighty Noseless Fucker. Do you know how much German I speak?” He reached out, grabbing onto Blaise’s collar with a clenched fist. “Null, Zabini! _NULL_!”

Blaise shot his head around to check that no one was hearing Adrian’s spectacularly melodramatic outburst. 

“Okay, okay. Calm down, mate. Come and have a drink at Malfoy’s and I’ll explain.”

“Better bring your bloody best Firewhisky.”

“I swear.”

x

Blaise topped off Adrian’s glass and sat back down. Adrian leaned back in his chair. Draco flicked his gaze between his two friends. 

“So, she _was_ here.”

“Yep.” Blaise punctuated the ‘ _p_ ’ with a smack of his lips. 

“And he,” Adrian gestured to Draco, “was in love with her all this time, even though he lied to us and said it was just a ‘ _fuck and forget_ ’ kind of crush?”

“Correct.” 

“And now, she’s sitting in a cage in your childhood home, being tortured and raped by him?”

At this, Draco’s grip on his whiskey tumbler tightened and he heard a sickening crunch as the shards of broken glass cut into his hand. The pain was somewhere in the back of his mind but his vision was blurred by the horrifying image of Hermione in a cage. 

Blaise hissed in annoyance and waved his wand, vanishing the glass and repairing the bleeding mess that was Draco’s right hand within thirty seconds. 

Adrian grimaced at the pool of blood on the carpet, an apologetic look on his face. 

“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you’re right,” Draco said, through gritted teeth, “it _could_ be happening.”

“No, no, man, I didn’t mean to—,”

“ _Regardless_ ,” Blaise interrupted, “she’s there and it’s become quite clear that we need to get the snitch to Potter now more than ever.”

“But you said it yourself, we don’t know when he’ll give her back.”

Draco stood and let his friends talk, walking out to sit by the tree in front of his tent. He was lucky that his lodgings were further away from the centre of the camp than most. It afforded him some modicum of privacy in a world where he had very little to himself. 

He sank down to sit down at the base of the tree and sighed, a cloud of his breath swirling around in the moonlight. 

_“Draco, there’s no time, my darling.”_

_“Mother, I can’t risk it, you could be—,”_

_“You must. Get to the castle and give Harry Potter the snitch.”_

_She pushed it into his hands and smiled._

_“You have to do this, Draco. This is for you. For your future.”_

_“But what if he suspects something?”_

_“He won’t. Even if he does, don’t worry about me.”_

_“Mother, how can you say th—,”_

_“I have to go now. Guard this with your life, you understand me? Professor Dumbledore and Severus assured me that Harry would need it to win. You have to get it to him. No matter what.”_

_She reached up to press a kiss to his forehead._

_“Be brave, darling.”_

_And with a final, teary smile, she Disapparated. Draco was left alone, with the weight of the world resting in his palm. He blinked into the empty space in front of him, feeling a gaping loss that he couldn’t explain. She was gone._

_“Mum?”_

It was the last time he had seen her. Now, he didn't know if she was even alive. Draco lifted his head and brushed a stray tear from his cheek. He had failed his mother, he had failed Hermione and he was failing the Order every minute that they were without the Snitch they needed to defeat Voldemort. 

He didn’t know how that was supposed to happen, but it was the only chance he had for this bloody war to end. 

He missed her.

_ Psyche _

Hermione sank down to sit at the base of her bedroom door. Or rather, Draco’s bedroom door.

It must have been her sixth day there. Maybe a whole week had gone by already. She wasn’t sure anymore. 

It had become clear to her from the minute she had been Apparated to the Manor that Voldemort was uninterested in her. She had been shoved into this room with the instruction that she was to behave, be quiet and obey orders. She didn’t even bother checking if the door was sealed shut. Logic told her that, regardless of the general stupidity of Death Eater foot-soldiers, her captors were smart enough to know not to leave the door unlocked. 

After ten minutes of poking around and trying to find the secrets Draco held inside his private quarters, she decided that sleep was her best option. She had a bath in the ensuite bathroom and decided to borrow a set of the sleep-clothes she found in a chest of drawers. They hung loose on her frame but she felt a small tingle of happiness to know that these were Draco’s clothes. She curled up into the soft mattress and buried her face into the pillow, marvelling at the fact that it still smelled just like him, his scent that had come through the Amortentia potion in sixth-year. Lemon and spices. And apples.

Sleep, and then she could face whatever horror the next day would bring.

It brought nothing but a small tray of food, which lay untouched. The second day passed in the same fashion.

The house-elves who worked here had been abused horrifically. The one assigned to her, a small elf called Ipsy, had a black eye and was disturbingly thin. 

The little elf had begged her to eat on Day Three, and after forty-eight odd hours of refusing her, Hermione finally gave in, unable to walk properly from weakness. The food had been simple, just bread and milk, but it was a blessing to eat anything. 

It wasn’t poisoned, so that was an added bonus. 

And so, the days passed. Hermione spent most of her waking hours reading the books Draco had left behind in his room. School textbooks and novels, mostly. They were soft and worn, having been lovingly read and reread over the years. She would have been relieved that this was her sentence, were it not for the occasional sounds of screaming coming from beneath the floorboards. 

At any moment, it could be her. 

She glanced down at the scar on her arm, her permanent reminded of the fact that she could never let down her guard. 

It wasn’t so much that she was okay with what her life had become. It was more that her brain was numbing away the feeling of panic that should have been at the forefront of her thoughts. 

Her mind was, in some strange way, protecting her body. 

It was bizarre to be in this position. At first, being Draco’s prisoner had been the worst thing she could have imagined. Now, in the headquarters of the most dangerous wizard in the world, the tent was an oasis. 

She missed freedom. A sob caught in her throat as she imagined Harry’s face, then Ron’s and Ginny’s, and Luna’s. All of her friends. Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, the rest of her teachers. Even Trelawney. 

_Draco_.

She didn't know how two days with him could make those old feelings reappear, but they had, and it was painfully clear that they were here to stay. 

She missed him. 

_ Eros _

Draco was sitting in the dining tent, alone at his table. It was empty save for him, and he wasn’t really interested in the bowl of soup that sat before him. It didn’t matter, anyway. He always sat by himself. The lower-ranking soldiers were terrified of him, and the higher-ups had personal house-elves to cater to them in their own quarters. He liked being alone. 

Fourteen days since she had gone. She had been with him for barely two days and her scent on the pillow was beginning to fade. 

Suddenly, there was movement in front of him and he looked up to see Blaise smiling at him. 

“Piss off.”

“Okay, not in a good mood today.”

“Had to go to London last night for a meeting.”

“How was it?”

“Same old. They tortured two Muggles.”

Blaise sighed, tapping his index finger five times on the wooden table. It was a signal that they needed to talk privately, and Draco tapped the table three times before wandlessly casting a silencing charm around them. The tent was still empty apart from them, but he could never be too careful in a camp full of Death Eaters.

Blaise glanced around before turning back to Draco.

“Adrian’s been scouting the edges of the castle. He thinks there might be a way to make contact. Obviously, Theo’s being a bitch about it and keeps popping up, so it’s not going as well as we had hoped.”

“Until Pucey knows with _absolute_ certainty that there’s a way, this is worthless news.”

“You’re seriously in a rotten mood today, aren’t you? Anyway, on the Granger front, we’ve—,” 

At this, Draco’s eyes shot up with so much haste that his vision went fuzzy . He blinked at Blaise, his friend’s smirk coming into view as his eyes cleared. 

“—we’ve come up with a plan.”

“You have?” He couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice. This was Blaise, and Blaise knew him to well to be fooled by a mask. 

“I’m going to ask him if I can have her.”

There was a beat, and Draco found that his mouth had gone dry. 

“Excuse me?”

Blaise must have seen the dangerous look in his eyes, because he raised a palm in defence. 

“Calm down, you lunatic, I’m not interested in her. I’m going to ask him if I can have her and make him believe I’m pissing you off by doing so. She was your prize, and he took her away. But then if I, your best friend, get her, it’ll be like a double whammy.”

“So, what you’re saying is that—,” A crease appeared between Draco’s eyebrows as he tried to work out the logistics of the plan, “you’re going to appeal to the inner, bratty child in Voldemort?”

“ _Exactly_. Spite. It’s what he lives for. He’s like a scarier, more fucked up version of Pansy.”

It was a good idea. Even if it wasn’t, it was the only idea any of them had come up with. 

“When?”

“He’s coming for a short strategy plan with Theo’s dad on Saturday. We can ask, then.”

“Right.”

“So, what do you say? I’m not doing this unless you’re sure.”

“Okay. I mean, yes. I’m sure. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was a minute of silence. Draco glanced at his friend.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you willing to risk your life for this? To get her back?”

Blaise gave him a plaintive smile. 

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah. Give me a reason.”

“I have _several_ reasons, actually. Firstly, you and I know that Voldemort and his loyal band of psychopaths need to be wiped out for the good of people everywhere. Muggles and magical folk alike. All the blood purity shit we were fed, we both know it’s nonsense. This war needs to end. Secondly, you’re my best mate. I love you like a brother. Thirdly, she’s the girl you’ve been in love with for fucking _years_ now - even if she’s not quite there yet on the feelings front - and you deserve to be happy after the shit you went through. And let’s be honest, the Order doesn’t stand a chance without Hermione Granger. Lastly, and _most importantly_ , the girl I’m in love with is in that castle, and I would do anything to give her the life she deserves. A life without war.” He broke off and looked away, his expression downcast. “Even if it’s without me.”

“Did you,” Draco hesitated, “ever get to tell her that you love her?”

“Yeah. I told her every day that we were together.”

Another silence, then Draco muttered, almost inaudibly,

“You’re lucky.”

Blaise nudged his hand. 

“Come on, mate. Don’t think like that. You’ll get to tell her.”

“Don’t know if she’d ever feel the same. Merlin knows I don’t deserve her.”

“Give her the benefit of the doubt. Luna forgave me for my faults. Hermione Granger’s smart enough to know that you’re a good man.”

“You’d die for her? For Luna?”

Blaise answered so quickly that his answer almost overlapped the question. 

“Without a second thought.” He pulled Luna’s bracelet from inside his jacket and ran his thumb over one of the little charms. “You know how it is, right?”

Draco pushed his hair back from his eyes and nodded.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a male-dominated chapter. I don't know that much about how guys talk but I took some liberties. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this - it's not a resolution to Hermione being in the Manor but I think it's a nice little bit of Draco's POV. And you get to see a new character within the story - Adrian Pucey. I was going to do the whole three musketeers thing with Draco, Theo and Blaise but I forgot that I made Theo a baddie at the beginning. And Adrian Pucey is cute. Look him up on the HP Wiki page. So he's going to be the second accomplice to Draco. 
> 
> And obviously Blaise loves Luna. I adore that ship and I think they'd be perfect for each other. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave me a comment, I love seeing what you think!
> 
> xx nztina


	6. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's another long one, guys. Loads of dialogue, so I hope you don't mind that style of writing. 
> 
> I hope you're all keeping safe!
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!
> 
> xx nztina
> 
> Gilded Shivers drew a beautiful picture from a scene in this story, which can be viewed here: [X](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFImkx8KtN7/)

Blaise walked towards the large tent with Adrian at his side. The Dark Lord would have finished his meeting with the council and it was their opportunity to get Hermione back. 

He thanked the gods that it wasn’t Luna. 

The leaves were wet underneath their boots and they quickened their pace.

“He’s late.” It was almost inaudible, but Blaise heard Adrian’s murmur. There were too many people around for them to talk freely.

“He’ll be here.”

“The whole point is that he sees Draco get pissed at you for getting her—,”

“He’ll _be_ here, and even if he isn’t, the plan has to go ahead. We haven’t got a backup and she’ll be dead if we wait until the next time he visits.” Blaise spoke through gritted teeth. “Now shut up before I hex your balls off.”

“Shutting up.”

They entered the tent as several members of the council were leaving. At his seat, like a king, sat Voldermort. Ten members of his inner circle sat around in the circle of seats that all faced his. 

Voldemort looked up at the two encroaching members of his army and smiled.

“Our young soldiers are here to join us?” He raised his hands, welcoming them to two empty chairs near his.

“Sir, we are honoured to sit with you—,” Blaise began, his rehearsed speech running through his mind like clockwork. 

“But,” Adrian interrupted, “we have something to ask of you.”

Blaise nearly punched Adrian. So much for subtle.

Voldemort’s smile grew. It was a dangerous smile and Blaise felt his stomach flip. 

“And what, pray tell, is it that you have to ask of me?”

“My lord, I would like to ask you—,”

“Yes?”

Blaise leaned closer, feigning a want of privacy. This was it. He had to muster up all of his acting skills to make this believable. He only hoped Adrian would have the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

“I would like to speak about Hermione Granger, sir.”

“Oh, she’s a lovely little toy, isn’t she?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s too bad that she’s rather a bore.”

“Oh, well you see, my lord, Draco Malfoy is a good friend of mine, but he was quite upset when you took away his,” Blaise tried not to wince, “ _toy_.”

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. 

“That was the point, young Zabini.”

“Of course, my lord, and you were quite right to do it. What I was going to ask, sir, is if you would permit _me_ to have her.”

A small crease appeared on Voldemort’s forehead. 

“You want Potter’s girl? For what purpose?”

“Sir, if you gave her to me, it would only make Draco more upset. I am his—,”

“ _One_ of his best friends, sir.” Adrian butted.

“One of his best friends, and I know it would make him very upset to see me playing with his prize.”

“Why do you want to hurt him like this? Surely you want to be in his good graces?”

“Er—,”

Adrian slapped a hand on Blaise’s shoulder and grinned. 

“My lord, Draco stole a girl from Blaise in school. He only wants to repay the favour.”

Blaise waited. Adrian waited. They looked at Voldemort with all the causal nonchalance in their repertoire and hoped he would buy it. 

He looked back at them with a small frown on his face. 

And then he started to giggle. 

He clapped his hands together like a small child and Blaise felt relief rushing through his heart like a balm over a burn. 

Hermione would be safe. 

“Yes! This is a wonderful plan, my dear boys. Revenge. So conniving. So _evil_.”

“So he can take her?” Adrain pressed. 

Voldemort leaned back in his chair, his smile fading, and shrugged noncommittally. 

“To be perfectly honest, my dear fellows, I don’t really care. Take her if you want. She is worth nothing to me.”

Blaise frowned.

“My lord?” Selwyn leaned forward from where he was sitting, a sour look on his face. “Should we not discuss the possibility of using her to gain entry into the castle?”

“Unlikely, Selwyn, they think she’s dead by now. They won’t trust that we’ve kept her.”

“But, my lord—,”

Voldemort raised a bony hand to silence the man. 

“Enough. I have made my decision.”

Blaise stood. 

“My lord, may I go to the Manor and collect her?”

“No need.”

“Oh, er, why is—,”

“I already gave her to the men. You can get her from them. _If_ they let you, that is. Men need to have something to occupy them. A treat.”

He smiled.

There were appreciative chuckles from the Death Eaters in the tent.

Blaise felt the horror of his master’s words settle in but he trained his face to remain calm. At this moment, he was glad Draco was not here. 

“Where, my lord?”

“Oh, just out there,” Voldemort gestured towards the entrance, “I gave her to Fenrir to give to the men. They needed some amusement.”

Adrian rose to stand next to Blaise.

“Of course, sir. We shall leave you in pea—,”

“Eager to claim your prize, hmm?”

“Yes,” Blaise nodded, “I am.”

“Excellent. Let us hope young Draco doesn’t get there first.”

The gleam in their master’s eyes was sickening and Blaise bowed, thanking him graciously before exiting the tent in haste. Adrian rushed behind him, both men scanning the area and hoping they weren’t too late. 

_ Eros _

Draco heard her scream and, for a split second, put it down to a hallucination. He hadn’t slept properly since Hermione had been taken, not at all since the plan had been set, and now he was fucking late to the meeting _and_ imagining things.

Then, he heard her again and started to run. 

A hundred metres away, in a clearing, he saw it. A cluster of Death Eaters, all big and burly men, were standing in a circle, tossing something between them. 

_Someone_. 

He could see her curls glinting in the sunlight, even from this distance and picked up his pace, removing his wand from his arm holster. 

“Stop!” She was begging, her voice ringing out against the trees. “Please, stop!”

_ Psyche _

Hermione’s scream was muffled as a large, sweaty hand clamped over her mouth and an arm snaked around her waist to hold her still. She wrestled against the human straitjacket and only found it tightening. There was a stream of blood running down from her nose to her neck and she could feel a parallel trickle running down the inside of her throat. 

At least two of her ribs were broken. 

A big man with dark eyes and a terrifying smile leered at her, his wand held to her throat. 

“Just wait until we’re through, darling. You’ll wish you were dead.”

She shut her eyes and saw her parents’ faces smiling at her the day before she _Obliviated_ them. 

Harry dancing with her in their old tent the year before. 

Ron showing her a trick on his broom at the Burrow. 

Ginny dancing to The Weird Sisters in the common room. 

Professor McGonagall telling her to be brave. 

Professor Snape telling her not to give up on Draco.

Draco. 

_I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I never got to tell you how much you all mean to me. How much I wish I could be with you. I love you all. I love you. I love you._

_I love you._

She waited for the burn of whatever horrific spell was coming, writhing against her captor as much as she could. 

If Hermione Granger was going to die, she would die fighting. 

And then—

_ Eros _

Draco stalked up to Andrew Larson, the man with his wand shoved up against Hermione’s throat, and stunned him into the dirt before he could even turn around. Quick as lightning, he turned his wrath towards Rob Millican, the man with his arms around Hermione’s body.

“Don’t even try it, Millican. You’re fucking done.”

The rest of the Death-Eaters in the group did not try to fight, or even pull their wands. They knew attempting to face Draco Malfoy in a duel would be a futile exercise in pain. 

Rob dropped Hermione to the ground and tried to reach for the wand in his pocket. Draco smirked as he hexed the man hard enough to send him flying backwards into a tree.

It was a good thing these men were brainless muscle. 

He crouched, scooping Hermione into his arms. Her blood had already stained the dirt. 

“If any one of you even looks at her again, I’ll swear in Salazar’s name, I’ll kill you.” He said it in a calm, deadly voice, and saw the fear register in the eyes of the men. Then, after a second thought, he added, 

“She’s _mine_.”

It would be enough for them to understand that he was claiming her as his property. 

Nothing more. 

When he reached his tent, he laid her down on the bed and tried to cast a detection spell over her body. It wasn’t working and he groaned in frustration. It was a miracle that she was still breathing. The men in the forest had done plenty of damage to her. He knelt by her and brushed his fingers across a deep gash on her arm.

Her clothes, which looked oddly familiar, were hanging off her frame like rags, and there was blood all over her body. Several bruises were already blooming on her pale skin. 

She whimpered and he automatically reached for her face, stroking her cheek. 

“Hermione? Can you hear me? Don’t be frightened, it’s me. It’s Draco.” She shuddered as he brushed the hair from her forehead. “I’m going to take the pain away, okay? You’re safe. You’re safe here.”

“Mate.” He spun, wand aloft, to find Blaise standing above him, Adrian not far behind. They both were staring at Hermione with wide eyes. 

“I don’t know—,” Draco gulped down the panic rising in his throat, his wand arm shaking. “I can’t—,”

“I’ll do it. I’m better at it than you, anyway, right? Let me do it.” Blaise nudged him to stand up, Adrian pulled him away from her. He watched Blaise sit beside her on the bed, casting diagnostic spells and murmuring incantations as he moved his wand across her body. 

“Come on, you have to sit down.” Adrian pulled him to the armchair but Draco fought him, desperate to go back to Hermione’s side. 

He had no right to her. 

He knew that she didn’t want him. He knew she was not his. 

But if she died, he would die too. 

“I have to—,”

“There’s nothing you can do until he finished helping her, man. He’s good at it, remember? Mate, stop it!” Adrian restrained Draco. “Stop—remember Venice? He fixed us both up so well we didn’t even scar! He’s fixing her up now.”

“She’s—,” he choked on the words.

“Gonna be _fine_.”

Draco thought about Luna Lovegood and how Blaise had told her that he loved her. He dropped his head into his hands and let the tears come. 

_Psyche_

Hermione felt odd. 

She tried to open her eyes but they seemed to be glued shut, and when she tried to lift her head, it was like an invisible force was pushing her back into her pillow. 

“Hello?”

At least her mouth worked. 

Then, hands were on her body, touching her waist, her arms, her cheek. And the odd weight across her lifted. She cautiously opened one eye, then the other and found herself staring up at the dumbfounded faces of Draco Malfoy and Adrian Pucey.

 _Draco_.

His face was almost impassive.

Her gaze shifted. 

Blaise Zabini was sitting next to her, his wand drawn. Her eyes flew wide open and in an effort to move away from him, an agonising pain tore through her chest. Blaise raised his other hand, his expression earnest and open. 

“No, it’s okay! It’s okay, you’re safe! Look, here’s Draco.” He jabbed a thumb in Draco’s direction. “He wouldn’t let anyone near you that he doesn’t trust. You see? It’s alright. We’re friends. We won’t hurt you. Okay?”

 _Friends_. She wasn’t fully placated, glancing between Adrian and Blaise with suspicion. She didn’t want to look at Draco again. Not yet. But Blaise had a point, and she trusted Draco so—

“Okay.”

“Brilliant.” Blaise murmured an incantation and Hermione felt the diagnostic spell work its way from her head to her toes. “Now, look, you have to take it easy, okay? I had a charm over you to stop you moving too much for the past few hours, but I’ve taken it off. You can’t just start gallivanting around because your body is still healing. I don’t want you hurting yourself again.”

“Okay.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Hermione thought about it for a second, and the memory of being punched in the stomach came back to her. 

Death Eaters. 

“Yes.”

“Would you like to sit up a little bit?”

“Yeah.” She tried to nod. He carefully levitated her head and slid another pillow under her. 

“How’s that?”

“It’s not bad.”

Blaise looked up at Draco and stood. 

“Draco will explain everything tomorrow, yeah? Make sure she rests, man.” He spoke to his friend before turning back to Hermione. “You,” he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “don’t try any stunts. Bed rest until I say otherwise. You need to sleep now.”

“Yes, sir.” She couldn’t help but smirk. If someone had told her a year ago that three of her Slytherin classmates would be showing concern for her, she would have thought they were insane. Adrain waved at her as he was lead away from the tent by Blaise. 

Draco hovered at the foot of the bed. She looked at his hands. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Are you—,”

“Do you—,”

They both fell silent, considering each other. 

Finally, she took a deep breath, cringing at the pain in her chest. He spoke first.

“You heard him, Granger. Time to sleep.” 

She realised he was wearing sleeping clothes. It was night. 

And she was exhausted.

“Can we talk in the morning?”

“Of course.” He pulled a pillow from next to her and threw it on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“On the floor?”

“Yeah.”

“I seem to remember you telling me it’s not very nice.”

“I don’t want to jostle you or anything,” he lowered himself to the floor, still watching her, “so it’s fine—,”

“Don’t be silly. Get up here.”

“But—,”

“Please? I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

She hoped he wouldn’t read too much into it, but his face was cloudy with thought. He dipped his head in a slight, reluctant nod. 

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

He stood and walked around the bed to sit on the other side, pulling the covers over himself as he settled in. 

“Hey, do you think you—,” Hermione began. Draco sat upright immediately.

“What is it?”

“Would you mind taking the extra pillow out? I can’t sleep like this.”

She watched him glance at his wand on the desk. He decided against the trip, turning to her. 

“I’ll lift your head and slip it out, is that alright?”

“Yeah.”

She held her breath as his hand came up to cradle her head, his pinky finger resting at the base of her neck. His hair was falling in his eyes and it brushed against her cheek as he leaned closer to pull her up from the bed. 

She felt the pillow slide from under her and then he was gently laying her head back down, pulling his hand away. She felt cold without it. 

“Sorry, did that hurt?”

“No. Not really.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose we should just sleep, then.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He waved a hand and the lights went out. She could hear his soft breaths in time with her own.

The darkness made her brave. 

“Thank you for saving me.”

_ Eros _

_Thank you for saving me._

He woke with her voice in his mind and turned over to see her watching him. Her hair framed her face and the bruises on her cheekbones. He reached out and, unable to stop himself, brushed his finger against her cheek. She made no move to speak, so he did. 

“I’m the reason you got hurt.” It came out in a rough, sleep-worn whisper. 

He dropped his hand.

She grimaced. 

“You think you could have stopped it?”

“I could have—,”

“No, it would—,”

“If only I’d been—,”

“ _Draco_ —,”

And then they both shut up and looked at each other in awe. 

She had called him Draco. And she couldn’t take it back. 

He tried to seem unaffected. 

“I’m sorry. If I had been more careful, then maybe—,” he trailed off, returning his gaze to the roof of the tent. 

“I’m fine now. I’m not there anymore so I’m okay.”

“But you’re not okay, don’t you get that?” He couldn’t help the pain in his voice. It was his fault. All of this. “Forget the Manor, you nearly died from getting mauled by those men yesterday.”

“But I _didn’t_ die.”

“You didn’t see what I saw. It was like a nightmare. You were barely—,”

“Listen to me, Draco Malfoy.”

He clamped his mouth shut. She continued. 

“In the last month, I have been kidnapped, given to you like a piece of property, dragged from this tent to a Death Eater dinner party, taken to Voldemort’s headquarters where I was held prisoner in your old room, and finally was tossed to Death Eaters, who tried to reduce me to a bag of broken bones. All that, and I’m still alive.”

“But—,”

“I’ll be fine.” She chuckled, flashing him a sly smile. “I’m Hermione Granger, remember? You should know by now that I don’t cower from danger.”

They fell back into silence and he toyed with the fabric of the coverlet. 

“If I had come to the castle in time, you wouldn’t even be here. He’d be dead already—”

“That’s not true. You can’t know it for sure.”

“— and besides, I should have told you everything when you first came here but I didn’t. I was so stupid.”

“What didn’t you tell me?”

“Why I didn’t come that day. My reason.”

She turned slightly to face him, wincing in pain as she did.

“I already know.”

“You—,”

“I heard. The night he took me, I heard him say your mother had escaped. That was the reason he took me, right? To replace her.”

“To punish me.”

“Oh. Well,” she shrugged, looking uncomfortable, “anyway, I’ve known this whole time, while I was at your house. I had plenty of time to think about the situation.”

“You—,”

“I don’t—,” she hesitated, “Well, what I mean to say is that I’m not angry with you. Not anymore.”

“Why?” His face was a painting of genuine surprise and he didn’t bother hiding it.

“Because if he did the same to me; if he took my mother, I would have done anything to save her.”

He shook his head. 

“No matter what it was, I betrayed you. The whole Order and the school.”

“You had to make a choice. An impossible choice.”

“He would have killed her.”

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago. You need to stop punishing yourself, alright? We're okay.”

A weight lifted off his chest and he stared down at her with his mouth agape.

“I—,”

Her stomach growled. 

He blinked, drawing back. 

“You must be so hungry.” Guilt swelled in his chest. “I’ll go the dining tent and fix something for us. What do you feel like, savoury or sweet?”

He started to move, throwing back the covers, but her hand on his arm stilled him.

“Are they good?”

He looked at her. _Good? Breakfast?_

“Good?”

“Are they with us?” 

_Blaise and Adrian,_ he realised.

“Yes.” He said it without a trace of doubt.

Then, almost inaudibly, she asked,

“Are _you_ with us?”

He didn’t feel hurt at the question. He was too grateful to have her back with him to feel hurt. 

So he answered truthfully.

“ _Always_.”

_ Psyche _

While Draco had popped out to get breakfast, Hermione catalogued the injuries on her body. There was a dull ache in her torso and her legs were still bruised. The pain was certainly lesser than the previous night and she found that she could stand and walk with mild discomfort. She gingerly made her way to the washroom, shuffling her feet along the floor and holding onto the wall for support.

She avoided looking in the mirror. She knew she was a fright, she didn’t need proof. 

When she had freshened up, she settled back in the bed, snuggling into the sheets. A minute later, Draco opened the tent and walked in, carrying a tray.

“Still awake?”

“Yeah.”

He settled the tray on the desk and came over to the bed, sitting down beside her. 

“If it’s okay with you, I can lift you up so you can lean against the headboard. Okay?”

Some small, foolish part of her brain decided that she wouldn’t protest; that she wouldn’t tell him she could get up by herself. It was pathetic and she ignored the kick of glee in her stomach. He waited for her answer.

She nodded.

He lowered his torso and curled an arm around her waist, the other reaching into her hair to rest at the back of her head. He gently lifted her with strong arms and moved her so that she was sitting upright. His face was right above hers and she forced herself to look away.

With Draco’s arms around her, Hermione felt safer now than she had been since leaving the castle.

She wondered if he could feel her heart thudding against her ribs.

He let her go and her hands ached to chase after his, to pull them back around her. Instead, she said,

“Thank you,” and fell silent.

Draco stood, a flush staining his cheeks as he brought the tray over to her, resting it on her knees. There were several shrunken plates on it, a plethora of choices. Two mugs of tea hovered behind him and he turned, grabbing the handles and offering one to Hermione. 

“Eat what you’d like, I brought some of everything. I’ll enlarge whatever you choose.” He handed her a fork. “The eggs are always good.”

She settled on an omelette and some toast, offering the rest of the plates to Draco for him to pick his meal. He took a bowl of yoghurt and fruit, hovering by the bed. She frowned.

“Well, sit down, then.”

He threw her an indiscernible look, dragging the desk chair to her bedside. 

She appraised him for a few moments as he ate. 

“What do we do now?”

He froze, a spoonful of yoghurt halfway to his mouth. 

“Er—,” he started, “well, we can eat breakfast and then, perhaps you—,”

“No,” she waved the thought away with her hand, “I mean, what’s the plan? We obviously have to get back to the castle.” She took a sip of her tea. 

“We?”

“All four of us. You, me, Blaise and Adrian.”

“You don’t understand. The wards are impenetrable. We’ve been trying for months—,”

“Yes, but you didn’t have me before. I know _everything_ about the castle. I’ll get us in.”

“Fine.”

She saw the thoughts ruminating in his mind. 

“We have to get back so—,”

“That Potter can finally end it.”

“Yes. Do you have the snitch? Professor Snape told me that Dumbledore had entrusted it to your mother.”

“He did entrust it to her, and I do have it with me.”

“Then leave the rest to me. I’ll get it to Harry.”

He fixed her with a hard stare. 

“You really want to do this?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do.”

She looked up from her breakfast, her mouth open, but he continued, 

“We could leave.”

“Leave?”

“Escape and go anywhere.”

“Just like that?” A smile rose to her lips. He nodded, casting his bowl onto the side table.

“Just like that. We could lay low until this ends.”

“We both know it can’t work out like that. I can’t leave my friends to fight this war. It’s my battle. It’s your battle, too.”

He slumped back in his chair, chin down to his chest. 

“I know. Sometimes I really wish we could just go far away.”

That ‘ _we_ ’ again. 

“One day, after the war ends.” She joked, but his eyes flew up to meet hers.

While he reached for his breakfast bowl and continued to eat, she considered her own feelings and wondered if she really was joking. 

_One day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't keep them apart for too long. 
> 
> Most of this is just filler but I needed Hermione back with Draco, mainly because I hated separating them. I'm sorry it's so dialogue-heavy, but I tend to write exactly as it plays out in my head. I'll try to be a bit more descriptive in my next chapter. 
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? Let me know in the comments!


	7. Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, you guys. So much fluff.
> 
> Gilded Shivers drew a beautiful picture from a scene in this story, which can be viewed here: [X](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFImkx8KtN7/)

_ Psyche _

“Wake up, Granger.” 

She batted away the voice with a hand and snuggled further into her pillow. Something prodded into her shoulder and she shrunk away.

“Come on, wake up.”

“ _Nnnnnnngggg_ ,” was all she could manage to moan. Suddenly, the smell of bacon surrounded her, along with a soft, teasing voice asking,

“But don’t you want _breakfast_?”

She stopped ignoring Draco and roused herself up to find him trying to stifle a smirk. He was looking rather fetching today, she decided, but then she looked at what he was offering. A plate holding a—

“ _Bacon butty_! Where did you _get_ it?”

“You can thank Blaise for that.” Draco gestured to the door of the tent, a small smile on his face. “He persuaded one of the elves in the kitchen to make it.”

“Persuaded?” She didn’t like the sound of that. 

“Don’t worry, no harm came to any elves while obtaining your meal, Granger. Blaise and Adrian are going to come over shortly and we can start planning.”

“Is he—,” She began, not knowing how to mask her fear. Draco seemed to pick up on it because he smiled, assuringly. 

“He’s gone. He’s gone for the whole month, I promise.”

She felt her body relax and she nodded, relieved.

“That’s—,” She trailed off, noticing the dark smudges underneath his eyes. Her fingertips itched to reach out and smooth his hair away from his face.

“You’ll be safe. It won't happen again.” Draco looked at her in a way that made her want to shiver. She nodded, watching him as he bit his lip too hard. He didn’t seem to notice the blood beading against his mouth. A small drop trailed down to his chin.

“You—,” she reached her hand to his mouth, careful not to touch him, “you’re bleeding.”

He started, as if in a trance.

“Oh, that’s okay. It’s a bad habit—,” he looked away, reaching for his wand. As he pointed it to his face, Hermione winced and pulled it from Draco's grasp.

“It’s not a good idea, healing your own face.” she shook her head at him. “I once watched Ron try to fix his broken nose and he ended up singeing off his eyebrows and losing sight in one eye for a week.”

She felt his eyes on her as she raised the wand and muttered a soft _Episkey,_ watching his lip heal with satisfaction. The feel of magic rushing through Hermione’s body made her want to weep with happiness. He lifted a hand to his mouth. 

“Thanks. I usually just vanish away the blood.”

“That spell is quite good for small injuries.”

“I’ll remember it.”

Hermione noticed that Draco was staring at her hand, the hand holding his wand. She immediately held it up to him, embarrassed. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—,”

He batted her away, gently.

“No, it’s just—,” Draco carded a hand through his hair, deep in thought, “haven’t you wondered why my wand just accepts you so easily? I’ve watched you use it twice now, and I—,”

She felt her cheeks colour. 

“It’s nothing. Just a good wand, that’s all.”

He looked like he was about to say something but thought better of it, looking back down to his knees.

Hermione slid out of the bed, pulling on one of her bedfellow’s sweaters before walking to the washroom. 

“I’ll just brush my teeth—,” She hovered in the doorway.

“Of course, no rush.”

_ Eros _

While Hermione was using the washroom, Draco transfigured three quills into armchairs matching the one already sitting in his room. There was a tap on the door.

“Mate, you decent?” Adrian called, and Draco walked over. 

“Get in, hurry.”

“That’s what you _wish_ girls would say to you, right, Malfoy?.”

Blaise stepped in after him, smiling.

“Don’t mind this giant dickhead, he’s just extra horny today. Did she like her breakfast?” 

“Hasn’t eaten yet, I only just persuaded her to wake up—,” Draco held a hand up to Adrian, who was waggling his eyebrows with unspoken innuendo, “not a _word_ from you, Pucey.”

“ _What_?! I wasn’t going to say anything—,”

“How’s she doing?” Blaise asked, throwing himself into a chair. “It’s been three days now, is she feeling better?”

“Yeah, loads.” Draco sat. “Thanks, by the way. That pain potion really helped. She was so hopped up on it last night that she spent four hours straight yammering on about _Hogwarts: A History_ before crashing into bed at one in the morning.”

“Sorry about that. I’m still tweaking the recipe. I’ll just do a check to make sure her ribs are properly healed at some point.”

“Thank you, man. I appreciate it.” And he did. Draco had never felt more grateful for his friend than when Blaise had guided Hermione out of danger those few nights before. “But I need to talk to you quickly, before she gets out. She’s been through a lot in the past few weeks. Merlin knows what she saw at the Manor, she won’t talk about it. I don’t want you, and I mean _you_ , Pucey—,”

“Rude.”

“—scaring her with anything, alright? No talking about what we’ve done for him, the things happening overseas. She needs to focus on getting the snitch back to the castle, and we’re not going to burden her with the bad stuff.”

“Promise,” Blaise said, nudging Adrian, who groaned.

“Yes, yes, I swear. I won’t creep her out.”

“Or flirt with her.”

“Or flirt with her. You’re a real bore, you know that, Malfoy?”

“I know. But I won’t take any risks.” He set his jaw. “Not when it comes to her.”

Adrian sighed, before his eyes flicked over to something behind Draco and he started grinning.

“Hullo, Danger,” he said, and Draco turned to see Hermione walking towards them, holding her breakfast plate. “ _Danger_ Granger, get it?”

“Yes, I get it. Very good, Pucey. Ten points to Slytherin.” Hermione rolled her eyes, coming to sit with them. As she sat down, her leg knocked Draco’s and he automatically placed his hand on her knee. In the two seconds that followed, Hermione had looked up at him in shock and he had drawn his hand away like he had been burned. 

“Sorry—,”

“Sorry—,”

“Yes, yes, and _I’m_ sorry that I have to sit here and watch the two of you side-step your feelings,” Adrian said, and Draco could have ended his life right there, “but we have things to discuss.”

“Yes, of course.” Hermione said, looking down at her sandwich. “Hey, it’s gotten a bit cold, can I—,”

Draco pulled his wand from his shirt pocket and gave it to her before she could finish asking. He watched her mutter a small warming charm over the food. She handed the wand back to him and bit into the bacon butty. 

Unaware that two sets of eyes were staring at her with shocked curiosity painted on their faces.

Draco looked between his friends and Hermione, unsure what to say. He caught Blaise’s eye and shook his head. 

“So,” Hermione said, swallowing a large bite, “tell me everything.”

_ Psyche _

Hermione didn’t notice when Draco and Adrian went to get them lunch from the dining tent, but she _did_ look up when Blaise cleared his throat. 

“So,” he started, and she put her quill down, looking at him expectantly, “you’re feeling okay, then?”

“Yes. Why not?”

“Because you nearly died this past week?”

“Oh, right. Yes, I’m fine.”

Blaise stood and gestured for her to do the same.

“I want to do another diagnostic to make sure.”

She obliged, walking to the bed.

“Lying down is best, right?”

Blaise nodded and she acquiesced, flopping down gracelessly. He waved his wand to cast the spell and she watched faint, glowing lights hovering above her body. 

“Why does he let you handle the accounts?”

“Mainly because I’m good at it.”

“What about you father?”

“Not here. My family lives in Italy, they moved back there shortly after second-year. He trusts me.”

“He really lost his mind, didn’t he? It became really obvious at the Manor.”

“A couple of months ago. None of us really noticed, because, on a good day, he is quite—,”

“Unhinged.”

“—unhinged, but then, during a meeting, he started repeating his words, over and over, like a broken record. And then he began laughing all the time. At dinners, while talking to captives, even when he was alone. That’s when we knew.”

“Don’t his officers care? Why don’t they overthrow him and take control? It would be so easy.”

“It would, but he’s a central figure of power. They control it all, but behind him.”

“Sounds familiar.”

Blaise looked up at her.

“Hitler?”

Hermione was surprised and it showed on her face. 

“How did you—,”

“I may be a pure-blooded Slytherin Death Eater, but I’m not _that_ ignorant of the Muggle world, Granger.”

“Pseudo-Death Eater.”

“Ha! Thanks.”

“I meant to ask, by the way,” she let her eyes go unfocused as she stared at the roof of the tent, “how did you know that bacon butties are my favourite?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then who does?”

“Draco, of course. He must have noticed that you liked them at school.”

“Oh.”

“Speaking of Draco,” Blaise began, his voice cautious, “I see that things have changed between you and him.”

Hermione felt a streak of fear run through her body and she tried to cover the alarm on her face by feigning ignorance. _What had he noticed?_

“I don’t know what you mean.” She played it off nonchalantly, but it sounded like the most blatant lie ever, even to her. She didn’t even have to look at him to know Blaise was smirking.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” He cast another spell, and she felt the warmth of it spread to her ribs and hip bones.

“What secret? There’s no secret—,”

“So you’re _not_ falling for him, then?”

“I—,” Hermione spluttered, unsure how to dig herself out of this hole, “I don’t know what you mean. That’s ridiculous. He and I are just—,”

“Friends? Tell me, Granger, in all the many magical books you’ve read, surely you’ve come across _something_ about wand-sharing?”

She shut her mouth and cursed her own foolishness. Of course, he would have focused on that. 

Blaise wove a spell around Hermione’s wrist, checking her vitals. He continued to speak. 

“Someone I knew, someone very special to me,” he winced and she frowned at him, wondering who this person was to elicit such pained reaction, “once told me that when you share a wand with someone, it’s a sign of something deeper than just surface attraction. Deeper than even having feelings.”

“I don’t think so.” That was a lie. 

Blaise cast the charms and spells away from Hermione’s body and took her hand to help her sit up. She swung her legs down to touch the carpeted floor, remaining seated. He crossed his arms and looked down at her with the same look her father had given her once when she was five and lied to him about eating half of the Christmas chocolate she wasn’t supposed to touch. 

“This person, she told me that when you share a wand the way you and Draco did, it means your souls are,” he pressed his hands together in front of him, his wand in-between them, “bonded.”

“We’re not _bonded_ , Blaise.” Lie.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” No.

In the past three days since he had rescued her, Draco had been more caring to Hermione than she could have possibly imagined. When she lost her strength in the middle of practising to walk without support, he had caught her and carried her back to the bed to rest. When she was thirsty in the night, he would be awake and pressing a glass of water into her hands. And when she had a nightmare of being tortured by Bellatrix like she did every so often, he had woken her up with his hand brushing her cheek, telling her it was okay to cry.

“It doesn’t matter, even if I—,”

“Feel something for him?”

“Why are you so interested?” Hermione eyed Draco’s friend, suspiciously. 

“No reason.” He shrugged. “I just know the look in your eyes, that’s all.”

“What look?”

Just then, she heard the door open and Blaise mouthed the word as Draco and Adrian stepped inside. One word, silently, but she heard it ringing in her ears as loudly as if he had shouted it.

_Love._

_ Eros _

Draco stepped into the room, wet hair dripping into his eyes. It was late at night and there was a small ball of fire hovering above the desk, casting a warm light in the room. It was beautiful magic and the witch responsible for it sat beneath at the desk. Hermione looked up from the sheets of notes she had taken throughout the day, laying her quill down. Her hair was piled into a messy bun at the top of her head and she was huddled in the chair with his jumper huddled over her knees. There was ink on her cheek and Draco was stunned by the thought that she looked unbearably beautiful. 

He wondered how long it would take him to go crazy from not kissing her. 

“Sleepy?”

She shrugged.

“You head off, I’ll be a minute. Just figuring out something.”

It was such an odd thing, he thought, to share a bed and be so comfortable with each other. 

And yet, remain so far apart. 

“Don’t be too long, Granger,” he pulled the blanket away from the bed. “Healer Zabini told you to get eight hours a night.”

As he settled under the covers, he saw her looking thoughtfully at the pages in front of her. 

“Do you know, I think he’d be a really brilliant Healer.”

“Blaise?”

“Yeah. He’s so patient and calm. He never panics and he’s so good with healing spells. Don’t you think so?”

Draco hadn’t. A future career seemed so out of reach for himself, he hadn’t even considered his friends. What would he do, if he was free to have a life? 

“Maybe. He’s been patching me up for months, now.”

He thought he saw a frown pass quickly through her features as he laid his head on the pillow, watching her through hooded eyes. 

“Did they defect when you did? Blaise and Adrian, I mean.”

“Blaise defected before me. Adrian left after, when Dumbledore died.”

“I think I misjudged them. I should apologise.”

“They certainly misjudged you, Granger. All through school. There’s no need—,” He couldn’t bear the thought of Hermione Granger asking forgiveness from his friends.

“And I should say sorry to you, too.”

“No!” It came out sharper than intended. “Don’t, please.”

She gave him a wry smile before she tilted her head, scrawling something on a fresh piece of parchment.

“I lost faith, back in the castle. I thought that you had given up on us, so I decided to give up on you.”

“Understandably.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Granger—,”

“Please. You said sorry to me. So I want to say that I’m sorry. I should have believed in you. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

“You had every right to be angry. You should _still_ be angry.”

“But I’m not. In fact—,”

“Yes?”

She smiled, shaking her head. 

“It’s late. Go to sleep.”

Draco would have argued if he wasn’t exhausted. Balancing his duties as a Death Eater and worrying over Hermione had proven difficult; his body was finally demanding rest. He settled for watching her work, the way he did when they were younger and sitting in the school library. 

Every roll of her neck, every yawn she stifled. 

It was enough to drive a man to madness. Finally, he started to doze. 

Only to be woken by movement next to him. Blinking wearily, Draco realised the room was dark and that Hermione was shifting in bed next to him. 

“Sorry, did I wake up?”

“Mmmm.”

“Well, go back to sleep anyway.”

He shifted, groggily. 

“Did you figure it out?”

“Yes, but I’ll tell you in the morning. Sleep, now.”

Draco awoke to find himself wrapped around a warm, solid pillow. 

_Oh, Merlin, no._

He opened his eyes to discover that Hermione was wrapped around his body with her face buried into his chest, a leg slipped in between both of his. His initial reaction to throw himself out of the bed and beg her forgiveness gave way to logic. By the steady tempo of her breaths and the fact that she wasn’t screaming at him, he assumed she was still asleep. 

_Why did he forget to put up the pillow barricade between them?_

He took stock of his body, and what exactly was touching her. 

Legs? _Touching._

Arms? _Touching._

Chests? _Touching._

Morning erection? _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck._

He tried pulling away from her, which only made her burrow deeper, nestling into him. 

_So this is hell_ , he thought. Both torture and bliss, wrapped neatly into a small, brilliant, curly-haired parcel.

While Draco was debating how he could get away from the situation, Hermione stretched . She smacked Draco on the chin with her elbow and promptly turned over in his arms so he was inadvertently spooning her. 

It had to stop before he had an aneurysm. 

“Granger?”

She didn’t answer.

“Granger, shift over.”

Nothing.

“Granger, look! Someone’s trying to tear a page from a book!”

She merely mumbled something into her pillow and fell silent.

At some point, he decided that this serendipity was not something he could fight, so he gave in and snuggled up to Hermione, tucking his chin into the crook of her neck. 

_Salazar forgive him, he had given it his best shot._

She could kill him in the morning. 

_ Psyche _

Hermione stirred from sleep, her dreams filled with secret passages into the castle and a pair of silver eyes watching her. What had Blaise said to her the previous day? 

_Love_. 

She didn’t love Draco. 

Maybe a small crush. Feelings, yes. Obviously. She would be crazy not to feel _something_ for him, but—

 _Had he changed from the horrid boy he had once been?_

Yes. 

_Was he brave and good and kind?_

Yes.

 _Was he the boy she had crushed over when she was younger?_

Yes.

_Did she still feel the same way as she had back then?_

…

Yes.

_But was it love?_

She pushed aside those thoughts. It was too early to think so hard, anyway. She snuggled into her cosy blanket.

It was a surprisingly warm morning; usually the bed was quite chilly at this time. She chalked it up to a fluctuation in the weather. _Was her blanket always this heavy?_

Suddenly, Hermione’s blanket’s mouth pressed against her neck and her eyes snapped open. 

Her blanket was—

Draco?

As she roused herself, she noticed the arm clamped around her waist and the body moulded against her own. 

“Oh, no—,”

The soft breaths falling on her neck made her assume he was still asleep.

His arm secured her to himself so reassuringly that, had the situation been different, Hermione would have been thrilled to wake up to Draco holding her. 

She was not thrilled. 

This was bad.

This certainly was not the highlight of her year. 

Draco shifted behind her and then _something_ was suddenly, very obviously, pressed up against her lower back. 

_Gods above._

“Draco?”

“Mmhmmm?”

“Draco, you're—,”

“What?”

“Uhh, well—,”

“Oh, fuck.”

She felt the arm around her move away.

“Granger, look—,” 

She twisted around to come face to face with him and caught sight of his expression. To her surprise, he didn’t look horrified. 

Just wary.

“We were kind of stuck together when I woke up earlier,” he mumbled. She tried to pay attention to his words and not his gravelly, sleep-heavy voice. They shifted further apart, leaving a foot of space between them. 

“You woke up before?”

“I did, when it was still dark outside, but—,”

“What?”

“Well, we were sort of—,”

“ _What_?” 

“You were facing me.” He looked even more uncomfortable. “Closer—,”

“Oh, no.” She felt shame reddened her cheeks. “I was attached to you, wasn’t I? Like a koala.”

“I couldn’t wake you, or move you. It wasn’t that ba—,”

“Don’t even _try_ to make it sound better, I’ve done it before.”

“Oh?”

She couldn’t quite place his expression, but he seemed almost—

 _Jealous_?

“Ginny. We had to share a bed at the Burrow.”

“Oh.”

 _Relief_.

She bit back a smile, focusing her energy back to the embarrassment of latching onto Draco like a parasite. 

“I like to cuddle in my sleep. Actually, the pillow wall was a good idea on your part.”

“Right.”

“Should we—,”

“Are you hungry? You barely touched your dinner last night.” She could have kissed him for changing the subject.

“Very.”

“You stay in bed a while longer, I’ll go get breakfast.” Draco pulled away the covers and sat up, gasping as he did so. Hermione bolted upright beside him and her mouth fell open. 

_Oh, fuck._

Adrian looked up from the book in his lap, casually lounging in the armchair. He looked bored save for the sparkle in his eyes.

“So, have you two had sex yet, or do I owe Blaise five Galleons?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you. 
> 
> I was reading this fic today and it was so slow-burning that I was up to chapter 55 and Draco and Hermione hadn't even expressed any romantic interest in each other. Obviously, I can't do slow-burn because I have no patience or self-control.
> 
> So, here we have domestic Dramione (within the setting of a tent in the middle of a Death Eater camp, against the backdrop of a war). We also have Hermione plotting away in the background, because she's the brains of this operation. She also seems to have a knack for attracting sweet, hopeless guys who follow her around like lost puppies. Next chapter is going to be a bit more action-packed, so enjoy the domesticity while it lasts! 
> 
> Also, how do you feel about our two match-making schemers? 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this chapter. Thank you for reading!
> 
> xx nztina


	8. Golden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent the last three hours writing the 4600ish words in this chapter, and it's late and I'm exhausted so excuse the many errors I am sure to have made. 
> 
> This one is a big chapter and I mean more than just the word count. Enjoy! 
> 
> xx nztina
> 
> Gilded Shivers drew a beautiful picture from a scene in this story, which can be viewed here: [X](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFImkx8KtN7/)

_ Eros _

“So tell me again.” Hermione commanded and Draco smiled as he walked out of the tent. She had Blaise and Adrian under her thumb now, mere days after they had become more formally acquainted. In fact, Draco suspected that both his friends had become rather protective of her. 

In fact, since she had come back, things had changed between them. She was no longer scared of him, no longer timid. He could see, once again, the Hermione that he knew from his childhood. The smart, bold, tempestuous fireball of goodness and bravery. The girl he had fallen for all those years before. She argued with him and challenged him and he couldn’t stop smiling. 

It was early in the evening and he wanted to get Hermione a snack from the dining tent - she had been working so hard that she had barely touched her lunch. Typical. For two days, Draco watched her absorb every detail of information supplied to her, writing everything down on meticulously organised sheets of parchment. She knew everything now. 

And he had faith that she would save them all. 

“Son?” Draco’s head whipped around, his father’s face conjured in his mind, but relaxed a fraction when he saw Adrian’s father walking towards him.

“Yes, sir, what can I do for you?”

“Tell my idiot son and the Zabini boy to get ready, you too.”

“Sir?”

“The attack in Wizarding Paris, it’s been moved up.”

Draco frowned. 

“Why would he order it to come forward? Surely they aren’t accelerating the—,”

“He doesn’t know.” The older man rolled his eyes, exasperatedly. “He’s busy with your aunt in Sweden. Salazar knows what they’re up to but it gives us time to strike where we need to.”

“I suppose—,”

“So get ready, boy. Attack is in two hours. We leave before the hour is up.”

Draco nodded, thanking the man and spinning around. 

_ Psyche _

“Paris, it’s now. Oh, fuck. Fuck _me_. They’ve changed the plan—,” Draco said, stepping into the tent with an ashen face, flicking Adrian on the back of the head, “up, Pucey, get _up_!”

Hermione looked between the three men, all of whom were now standing, and put down her quill.

“Paris? What’s in Paris?”

Draco looked like he hadn’t heard her, pulling his cloak and mask from the closet. 

Adrian shoved his hands into his pockets and tilted his chin down to meet his chest. 

Blaise put a hand on Hermione’s knee and gave her a small smile.

“You don’t need to worry. Just business.”

She didn’t buy it. Narrowing her eyes at her new friend, she levelled him with a glare.

“You’re lying.” She turned to Adrian, hoping he wouldn’t evade the truth. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Look, Danger,” Adrian gave her a sad smile, using his newly created nickname for her, “I don’t exactly know what it’s going to happen, it’s all a bit—,”

“Is it dangerous? Are you going to be in danger if you go to Paris?”

“Well,” Blaise spoke up, coming to sit on the edge of Hermione’s armchair, “it’s sort of complicated, you see, we’re all—,”

“Don’t you both need to go and get ready?” Draco interrupted, fastening his cloak. Hermione watched him and was loathe to admit that he actually looked really handsome in the uniform. 

“Right,” Adrian stood again, looking at Blaise.

“Yes,” Blaise nodded, “we both have to—,”

“See you ‘round, Hermione.” Adrian tugged on one of her curls before drawing his arm down to squeeze her hand in his. Blaise drew her into a hug, his long arms wrapping around her shoulders. As his jacket sleeve rode up his wrist, she caught sight of a trinket that looked familiar, but then he pulled back—

“See you at the Apparation point, yeah?” Draco was standing next to her, his eyes communicating something to his friends that Hermione couldn’t quite place. As Blaise and Adrain left the tent, she watched them go with a pang of sadness. The easy, friendly atmosphere of these past days had suddenly dissolved into something serious - something urgent. She felt Draco’s hand come up rest at the small of her back, pulling her to face him.

“I have to go.”

“I know.”

He _Accio_ ’d something to him. She didn’t pay attention. 

“Blaise got you this to use, just while you don’t have yours.” 

She looked down to see Draco pushing a wand into her hand. The instant he did, magic sparked through her fingertips and shot right up to her heart. She barely noticed, too busy focusing on the man in front of her.

“Why?”

“What better to protect you than your own magic? But listen, I don’t want you to use it unless absolutely necessary. It’ll give you away.”

“I understand.”

She felt numb. Whatever he was going to tell her, it would be bad. 

“I need you to promise me you won’t leave the tent.”

“I promise.”

“I—,” his voice cracked as he looked away from her, “I’ve made the wards much stronger and I’ll cast a _Notice-Me-Not_ over you—,”

“Draco?

“Is there anything I’ve missed? Oh, Gods, this had to happen now—,”

“ _Draco_ ,” her hand went up to his shoulder, clutching at the hard muscle there, “please tell me what’s happening?”

He kept his gaze on the carpet until her hand slid from his arm to his cheek, skimming his collarbone along the way. She marvelled at the warmth radiating from his skin. He finally looked at her, his face tormented. 

“It’s bad.”

“I know that much, thank you, but what _is_ it?”

“An attack.”

“On Wizarding Paris?”

“Yes. There is,” he chewed on his lip, “a rebellion group gaining traction there—,”

 _Oh_.

“And you have to go and,” she let her vision go blurry, tear-filled eyes stinging her as she stared up at him, “put a stop to it?”

Put a stop to it. _Kill them all._

_Death Eater._

His nod was so tiny that she could have blinked and missed it, but it was there. Something inside of her gave out.

Her knees buckled and she would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her on the way down.

They sank to the carpeted floor, his arms coming to cradle her body. Her tears were coming freely now, slipping down her cheeks and onto the skin of his neck as he held her. 

Hermione didn’t know why she was crying. 

_For the poor, unsuspecting rebels in Paris? The brave souls who were risking their lives to fight against blood supremacy?_

_For Muggles and Muggle-borns everywhere? For her parents and everyone else who didn’t have magic, but had every right to live in peace and freedom?_

_For Adrian and Blaise, who were double-agents for the Order, risking their lives to bring her back to safety and going out into the dark to fight for a cause in which they no longer believed?_

_For Draco?_

_For Draco, who was the only steadiness in her life? For Draco, the boy she had cried over when she was twelve and he called her by that offensive slur, thereby dashing her hopes of his returning her crush? For Draco, the boy who had deteriorated in their sixth-year because of the impossible task placed upon his shoulders? For Draco, the man who had saved her from the claws of demons?_

_For Draco, who filled her dreams?_

She nuzzled her nose into the warmth of his skin, wondering if this action would have led somewhere, were he not going out into battle. Wondering if this would be something more than comfort; something romantic? 

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He gently pulled her away from him, and she sniffled. His face was incredulous as he held her cheeks between his hands. 

“You’re worried about _me_?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” It came out more indignant than she intended. 

“Because,” he looked to the heavens, his eyes disbelieving, “I’ve just told you I’m going out to attack a bunch of innocent, good people and you’re worried for me?”

“I know. I feel like,” she pressed a hand to her heart, “there’s a war inside of me. I desperately want them to be safe…” She left the end of the sentence unsaid but Draco stroked her cheekbones with his thumbs. 

“ _But_?”

“What if you get hurt?”

“As much as it pains me to say this, Granger, this isn’t my first time going out on an attack.”

It pained her, too. 

“I can’t bear the thought of you dying.”

They stayed silent after that, sitting with their limbs entangled and their arms clutching at each other. Hermione could have tilted her head up and kissed him. He looked down at her like he was looking at his favourite painting and she willed the Fates to make this moment stretch out forever. 

Draco Malfoy, sharp jaw, silvery-blonde hair, eyes like silver, heart of gold. Who would have guessed?

Then, there was a faint tap at the door and Draco broke their connection, turning toward the sound.

“Mate?” Blaise’s voice called out. “Time to go.”

Hermione felt a chill run down her spine and she suddenly knew how wives in the olden days felt when their husbands were called away to war. 

Draco pulled her up with him. 

“This is the part where I say goodbye.” He smiled at her. She couldn’t smile back. 

“I wish we could have—,”

_ Eros _

“What? You wish we could have what?”

He watched her struggle with something in her mind. 

“I wish we could have met in another life.”

_What did she mean by that?_

He had no time to find out. 

“I have to go.”

“I know. I know you do.”

“You’re going to have to let go of me, then.”

“I will.”

“Some time soon, Granger.”

“I suppose you’re right.” 

He felt her grip on his wrists loosen and she let her hands fall to her sides. He took this opportunity to etch her face into his memory for the last time. 

“If something happens to me, you go, okay? Adrian and Blaise, you don’t worry about them, they’ll be okay. You get out as soon as you can. Don’t go back to the castle. Go somewhere far away. Go to Brazil, or Israel, and stay there.”

“Please don’t—,”

“I know you don’t want to hear it but you have to promise me you’ll go. Promise me.”

“Draco!” Blaise hissed from the door.

He kept his focus on Hermione, willing her to agree. She relented, nodding. 

“I promise.”

He took a chance.

“Be safe, Hermione.”

Her eyes refilled with tears and she reached her fingers up to brush his lips.

“Come back to me, Draco.”

“I will.”

It was the hardest thing he had endured to this point, but he pulled himself away from her, the feel of her soft fingers against his mouth, burning his face, his throat, his heart. 

He would come back. 

_ Pschye  _

When he was gone and the room was quiet, Hermione dropped to the floor. There was no one there to catch her now. 

The wand in her hand was tingling her skin, begging her to make magic. She ignored it, tossing it across the room in a careless way. 

And then her mind wandered. 

_“What do you mean? I thought Snape said it would be now.”_

_Harry looked as panicked as she was. He ran a hand through his hair, making it look even more messy than usual. Hermione focused on the watch on his wrist._

_Time. They had run out of time._

_“I don’t know. I swear, he was supposed to be here ten minutes ago.”_

_“Well,” Hermione looked down the corridor, watching a pair of sixth-years casting shielding spells against the windows, “maybe he’s just running late, or—,”_

_“We can’t keep the wards open for much longer, Hermione. His army will be here soon.”_

_“I know. I know, but,” she ran through the myriad of options in her head, “I don’t understand. He promised. Snape has faith in him. I—”_

_“McGonagall said to give him five minutes more and then I have to seal it. We can do it together, if you’d like?”_

_Hermione felt something building in her chest. Fear? Worry?_

_Anger._

_It hardened her heart._

_“He promised,” she repeated, turning to look out the window nearest to them. She would not shed tears for Draco Malfoy._

_Harry sounded so unsure._

_“Well, I mean, he could still show up.”_

_No. No more false hope._

_“Close them.” She looked back at him._

_“Hermione—,”_

_“Close the wards, Harry. He’s not coming.”_

_“But—,”_

_“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have been naive.” And she hated herself for being so weak; for expecting something from the person who always disappointed her._

_Harry stretched out his hand and tucked her curls away behind her ear._

_“I’ll close them if you want me to.”_

_“Good.”_

_“He asked me something, the night Dumbledore died. Do you know what he asked?”_

_“No, Harry,” she stepped away from him, turning to walk away. Enough was enough. Draco Malfoy was lost forever. She called out over her shoulder,_

_“I don’t want to know. Ever.”_

Hermione sat on the floor, repeating the conversation over in her head until she wanted to scream. 

_What did Harry want her to know?_

_What had Draco asked?_

And then, there was someone whisper-shouting, 

“Hermione! Hermione, open the tent!”

She jumped to her feet, hearing Adrian’s panicked voice spurring her forward. At the door, she halted, hearing Professor Lupin’s voice in her mind.

“What’s your nickname for me?”

“What? Granger, there’s no ti—”

“What do you _call_ me, Adrian?”

“Danger! Danger! For fuck's sake, Hermione!”

She opened the door and cried out, her heart dropping. Adrian stood there with Draco slumped against him, bloody and battered. 

She stepped aside to let Adrian drop him to the bed. 

“I have to go back. We have to all go to the Manor to convene—”

“What happened?” She could hear herself speaking but it was like watching a film where she was an on-looker in the situation.

“Draco wasn’t on his usual game. He got taken out by a bad curse. Fucking disaster.”

“I’ll take care of him,” she was speaking, but it was autopilot, “you go. You go, go back. Don’t let them get suspicious.”

Adrian nodded, dropping a kiss to her forehead before running out the door and slamming it shut behind him. Hermione wanted to cry, or die with Draco, but her instincts kicked in and she moved like a machine. This is what they had trained for in the castle, for all those months. Healing. 

She ran to the floor to find her new wand before throwing herself onto the other side of the bed, kneeling above Draco and ripping his torn clothes off his body as gently as she could. Once his shirt was bare, she started to perform diagnostic spells.

No spell was needed to show the deep cuts across his chest, the pallor on his face, the chill settling into his skin. 

Death brushing against his cheeks and drawing the blood to his lips. 

Everything Madame Pomfrey taught her was coming back to be of use. Her magic was flowing again, and she didn’t have a second to waste in marvelling about it.

_Cleansing. Sterilising. Cauterising. Healing._

And then, Snape’s calm, emotionless voice. 

_Vulnera Sanentur._

She whispered it like an oath, begging every god in the dark sky to have mercy on him. 

_Vulnera Sanentur._

She watched the blood seep from his soaked shirt back to his body, the skin stitching together. 

_Vulnera Sanentur._

She held his hand and felt his pulse come back to a steady beat. 

They sat there, him lying prone on the bed and her leaning over him, praying with fervour and muttering spells across his skin. Minutes went by. Hours.

And then,

“Hermione?”

“Yes?” She wanted to weep at hearing him say her name. She had feared it would never happen again. He lifted his head slightly, smiling up at her weakly.

“I came back to you.” 

And she watched him lose consciousness. She shut her eyes and let her shoulders relax, thrilled at the success of the healing spell. 

If this war ever ended, she would give Snape a hug. 

Still in the mindset of a healer, she went about the rest of her tasks. With her wand. 

With her magic.

She cleaned him, magicking away the blood and dirt marring his body and hair. She took the ruined clothes and tossed them into the bathtub, ready to be burned later. She clothed him in soft sleep-clothes before tucking him under the covers. She poured potions down his throat and waited for him to come back. 

He was safe. 

He was _alive_.

Tomorrow, the shock of tonight would probably hit her and she would deal with it then, but for now, she was content to sit next to him on the bed and read. Waiting.

_ Eros _

Draco opened his eyes to find Hermione sitting by him, a faint light at the tip of her wand shining on the book in her lap.

“Hey.” His voice was gravelly.

“Oh!” She jumped, looking up at him and tossing her book and wand away. He had barely a second to breathe before she was hugging him, her curls blocking his nose and mouth. 

“Need air—,”

“Sorry!” She pulled back. “Did I hurt you? Wait a minute—,”

Draco pushed himself up, leaning against the headboard. He heard her scrambling across the bed and then, a bright _Lumos_ filled the room.

“No, Granger. You _saved_ me, though.”

She closed her eyes and let out a shaky laugh. 

“Not me, really. Snape.”

“Ah, good old _Vulnera._ ”

“It doesn’t look like they’ll scar the same as—,”

“The _Sectumsempra_ ones.”

“No. But,” she hesitated, “they might.”

“It’s okay, Granger. Already ruined.”

“No.”

He looked up to see her looking at him furiously.

“What?”

“Don’t you dare say that, Draco Malfoy.”

“What?”

“You. Are. Not. _Ruined_!” She hissed at him, and it was too challenging to keep a straight face when she was being so serious, so he laughed. She only looked more annoyed. “You’re such a silly boy; you know that? You’re so _irritating_!"

Holding his hands up in surrender, he looked at her in amazement as she grew in her rage,

“Okay, okay, don’t be upset. I take it back! I’m not ruined. I’m not— wait, why are you crying?”

He watched her wipe her cheeks and shake her head. 

“I’m not crying.”

“ _Granger_.”

“Fine!” She poked the wand close to him and he blinked in the sharp light. “I’m so _angry_ at you!”

“Why? I got hurt!”

“Yes! You said you’d be safe.”

“Actually, I said I’d come back. Nothing about being safe. I’m pretty sure I told _you_ to be safe.”

“You—,” he watched her mouth fall open, “you _moron_!” She picked up her pillow and thwacked him across the chest. 

“Hey! I’m still healing!”

“No, you’re not. I gave you a blood-replenishing potion from your desk and checked your vitals. You’re fine.”

He smiled.

“Okay, I’m fine.”

“You freaked me out.”

“I guess we’re even, then, hmm?”

“What are you talking about?”

Draco reached out to grab her arm, yanking her down to lie next to him. She fell across his arm, her head settling to his chest. 

“We’ve both had near-death experiences now. We’re even.”

He could hear the wheels turning in her head and decided to silence them by brushing his hand through her hair.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

“Really mad.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Okay, but I’m going to yell at you tomorrow.”

“Sweet dreams.”

And he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Until—

“You think you can hurt me?” 

His eyes snapped open in the dark. There was something on top of him.

Someone. 

“Granger?”

“You think you can kill everyone I love? Everyone who isn’t good enough?” She was hissing her words so quietly that he could barely hear her.

“Granger, are you awake? Are you—,” He felt something poking into his throat and as his eyes adjusted to the faint light coming in from the full moon outside. She was straddling him, her thighs clamping down on his ribs, her wand held up against him.

“I’m not weak, you coward. I don’t hide behind other people. I don’t kill because I’m scared!”

“Hermione, wake up. Come back to me.”

“You have boys fighting for you, you despicable, sorry excuse for a wizard! _Boys_! They should be in fucking school and you’ve got them fighting in the battlefields for you! Dying for you! For what? For blood? It’s all the same! It’s all the same—”

“Hermione, please—,”

“Do you know how much I hate you?” 

Hot tears splashed against his face and he knew she wasn’t going to come out of it unless he shook her awake.

He acted fast, reaching one hand up to clutch her wrist, the other gripping her waist. She gasped. 

“You’re having a nightmare,” he gently put pressure on her wrist, trying to draw the wand away from her as he squeezed her waist gently, trying to wake her. 

“I—,”

“Hermione, wake up. It’s me. It’s Draco.”

“I don’t—,” 

He could feel the shift in her muscles, the way her thighs relaxed against him. He relaxed, too.

“Hey. It’s me.”

“Draco?”

“Yeah.”

“Did I just threaten you?”

“Yes, but to be fair, I think you were under the impression that I was someone else.”

“I don’t even know how I—,”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.” She pulled the wand away from his throat. He could feel her small breaths falling onto his chin as she leaned over him.

“No, it’s okay. It was a nightmare.”

She seemed to realise that she was still straddling him and made to move off him but he held her in place. 

“Draco, what are you—,” she broke off, and suddenly, her wand was poked up against his throat again. He saw her teeth as she smiled in the near-dark. 

“You’re at my mercy right now, did you know? I could kill you.”

“Oh, could you?” He grinned back up at her, knowing she wouldn’t kill a fly. Maim? Possibly, but not kill. 

“Yep. I’m powerful. You’re weak.”

“Is that right?”

“Afraid so.”

“So, are you?”

“What?”

“Going to kill me?”

“Maybe, or—,”

“Or?”

The wand poked his forehead.

“Maybe I’ll just turn your hair into daisies.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

When she started to giggle, he took the opportunity to catch her by surprise, rolling them so that she was pinned underneath him. 

“Do it.”

“What?”

“Go on, I dare you. Turn my fantastic hair into daisies.”

_ Psyche _

Hermione felt Draco’s full body against hers, the hardness pressed to her stomach making her heart flutter. He had caged her, leaning on his elbows above her. She squirmed and heard him stifle a groan.

She pushed her wand up to his temple, fully intending to fulfil her word but then she realised that Draco’s mouth was hovering just above hers.

“Do it, or surrender.”

She thought about it.

He stared down at her.

She surrendered. 

Dropping her wand to the side table, she heard it clatter and suddenly—

Draco’s mouth was no longer above hers but pressing down against her lips with so much all-encompassing warmth that she felt she could burn. Draco Malfoy was kissing her. Draco Malfoy was expertly using his mouth like a weapon of mass seduction. His lips were so soft and his hands were running all over her body, brushing against skin, trailing down to her legs—

He pulled away, panting. Stopping.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—,”

And the rest of his words were muffled when Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled him down to kiss her again. She bucked up against him and he groaned into her mouth, pushing her back into the mattress. 

“I’ve been thinking about this since—,” she started, gasping as he dragged himself down her body.

He kissed her throat.

“Since?”

He kissed her collarbone.

“Since sixth—,”

“Not before?”

“You’re such an arrogant _prat_ —,”

“Why sixth?”

“You looked really fit in those stupid black suits—,”

“That’s good to know.”

“And before that, it was just a crush—,”

He stopped at the waistband of her pyjamas trousers and kissed his way back up, eliciting small squeaks and gasps from Hermione. She let her mind drift to remember him through the years.

“Hermione?”

He had stopped. She frowned. 

“What?”

“Are you—,” he pulled himself up, face to face with her, “do you want me to stop?”

“What?”

“We can stop. I won’t—,”

“You want to stop?”

“No!” He sounded mortified. “No, I don’t want to stop, but I can stop if you want me to.”

“Why would I want you to stop?”

“Because—,”

“Is it because I’m a virgin?”

She felt him go still above her and felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment. Thank Merlin it was too dark to see. 

“I—,”

“Because if that’s the case, I’d be very disappointed in—,”

She stopped talking because he was kissing her again. He pulled away after a moment. 

“It should be special for you, Hermione. Not with me. With someone special.”

She pushed him over and rolled herself to straddle him again. Instead of sitting above him, she lowered her torso flush against his and rested her chin against the base of his throat, her face pressed into his skin. 

“You listen to me, Draco,” she said, muffled but indignant, “you _are_ special. You are so special to me. I’m so tired of you thinking you aren’t worth it.”

“I—,”

"I don’t _want_ someone else, I want _you_.”

“But—,”

“I’m so sick of coming close and then having you taken away from me.”

“Hermione—,”

“Tonight proved to me that both you and I could both die at any moment. I don’t want to spend another moment wondering, do you?”

There was a silence and then,

_ Psyche/Eros _

She was flat on her back, his mouth on her collarbone—

His hands carefully removing her shirt, tentatively asking her permission—

Her hands impatiently tugging his sweater away—

His teeth scraping against the soft skin of her inner thigh—

Her mouth pressing dulcet kisses against his forearm, blessing the Dark Mark, taking its power away—

And then, he was around her, and inside her and she was biting his bottom lip and crying out as they moved together—

And she was all he could feel, and he was not a religious man but he felt his salvation was surely the woman lying underneath him, whispering his name as he worshipped her body—

His hand holding her knee wide, her fingernails running up and down his back in jerky movements, their gasps and moans filling the soft, quiet space—

He wanted to be careful or she would be in pain tomorrow. As he moved, he marvelled at her body fitting against his so easily, like the gods had shaped them for each other —

She tasted the salt of his sweat on his skin and bit his shoulder, and it incited him to snap his hips even faster. She wondered how they could move so perfectly, like missing pieces of a puzzle finally coming together—

The scent that was a mix of honey and jasmine and something else; something so uniquely her own, so golden. The scent that was his Amortentia and the only thing he had thought of when he was bleeding out before. He wrapped his hand in her hair and inhaled—

And when she felt a delicious pressure in her lower abdomen start to build, she clutched onto Draco’s arms, and when it burst over her in a blinding flash of pleasure, she screamed silently, gasping for air above his shoulder—

And when he followed her, his guttural moan was muffled in the crook of her neck, and he was happier now than he had ever been in his whole life—

She felt tears running down her face. Relief, and happiness, and finally—

He lifted himself off her, worried he would crush her small body, and smiled when she whimpered at the loss of connection—

And they shifted so they were lying on their sides, in the dark, face to face. Heart to heart—

He could barely make out her features except for her eyes. They were full of fire. He kissed her softly, relishing in the fact that he had been dying only a few hours ago and now felt more alive than he could ever imagine—

And before they could say anything more to each other; before confessions of something important could spill from their lips, exhaustion took over and they fell asleep in each other's arms.

At peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS, WHAT DID YOU THINK!? SO MUCH DRAMA!
> 
> I don't know if you remember Troy (the movie) but there's that one scene, you know (Brad Pitt, the knife, the sex) and it's so beautiful and passionate and all, but I couldn't very well have Hermione actually threatening Draco's life so---
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a true pleasure to write. Also, special thanks go out to my best friend who beta'd the sex scene as I am no good at sex scenes. And it wasn't even a really smutty scene either, but I just cannot do them. I can read them. I cannot write them.
> 
> Anyway-
> 
> Leave me a comment and let me know what you thought. And let me know how you're doing! I adore you all for reading my story and I hope you are safe and healthy, wherever you are in the world. 
> 
> xx
> 
> EDIT: Hey guys, I feel like maybe some of you aren't getting that they do sleep together at the end of this chapter - it's not explicitly said, and I've not gone into graphics (because I suck at that) but I wanted it to be a more soul connecting experience, rather than just something physical. But yes, they do have sex. It's sexy times.


	9. Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the Domestic Dramione train!
> 
> Gilded Shivers drew a beautiful picture from this chapter, which can be viewed here: [X](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFImkx8KtN7/)

_ Eros _

Draco felt a weight across his chest. He opened his eyes and squinted in the morning light flooding the tent.

And then, the previous night’s activities came back to him.

The attack. Getting injured. 

_Hermione_. 

As if she heard him thinking about her, she nuzzled her nose into his sternum before lifting her head. She looked at him with grumpy morning eyes that were familiar to him now, and while she woke up fully, he studied her face. 

She was the same, and yet—

Everything was different. 

There were bruises from where he had kissed her neck, and her hair had doubled in size. Her mouth was swollen. 

As soon as this bloody war was over, he was buying a Pensieve and replaying the memories of the previous night on a loop. 

“G’morning,” she mumbled, her voice groggy. 

“Morning.”

Hermione pushed herself up to place a soft kiss on Draco’s jaw before returning back down. 

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh,” he grinned, “quite well. But it took me ages to fall asleep, you know?”

“How come?”

“This girl kept me up all night.”

“What a pity.”

“I rather liked it, actually.”

_ Psyche _

“Are you—,” he hesitated, and she felt it in the tensing of his muscles. She lifted her head from his chest and raised an eyebrow.

“Am I?”

Draco’s face was stained with a blush and she pressed her fingertips into his arm, encouraging him to continue. 

“Are you sore?”

Hermione lowered her face so her cheek was resting against his heart. 

“I think everything’s fine now. Blaise said I was good to go—,”

“No, I mean, from last night, uh—,”

“Oh,” she smiled to herself, thinking his question over, taking stock of herself. There was an ache in her limbs and her body _was_ sore, but it was a good soreness. It was a wonderful soreness. 

It meant that years of feelings were no longer slowly torturing her..

“Hermione?”

She smiled again. 

“It feels nice to hear you call my name.”

“It feels nice to say it. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m okay.”

“ _Granger_ —,”

“I promise. I’m fine. Better than fine.”

She felt his arms tugging her up and she moved to straddle him. They both laughed at the familiar position as she towered over him, her thighs pressed against his ribs.

“Do you regret it?”

And suddenly, she saw the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, the uncertainty in his voice. To answer, she drew her hands up to cup his face, leaning down to kiss him slowly. Passionately. 

“Never.”

_ Eros _

“—and then Neville nearly destroyed the entire Potions lab.” She giggled, wiping tears of laughter from her face. 

“And Slughorn?”

“Nearly had a heart attack.”

“I wish I could have been there to see it.”

Her smile faded and she raised a small hand to brush away the hair in his eyes. 

“I wish you could have been there too. But we’re here now. Everything worked out..”

“You’re not making the compelling point you think you are, Granger. I’m a Death Eater and you’re literally my captive.”

“But not really.”

He sighed, as she snuggled closer to him.

“Not really.”

“I mean, what sort of Death Eater lets his prisoner use his wand?”

“About that—,”

He felt her body still in his arms. 

_Psyche_

Hermione knew what he was going to say, so she beat him to it. 

“We’re soul-bound, aren’t we.”

It wasn’t a question. 

“Hermione—,”

“I know we are. It was the way your wand accepted me. I’ve used other peoples’ wands before and I’ve never felt the way I did when I used yours. It was like—,”

“Magic?” His voice was almost teasing. She prodded his chest with her finger. “I’m joking. What did it feel like?”

She thought about it for a few seconds. 

“Like everything.”

He nodded, his face unguarded.

“I know. I feel it too. But—,” his expression fell. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because it shouldn’t be me. It shouldn’t be me who gets to be soul-bound to you.”

“Who should it be, then?”

“Someone more deserving of you.”

_Not this again._

“Oh, okay. I’ll go and find someone else out there. What about Adrian?” She made to get up and felt Draco’s arms locking around her waist. He glared at her.

“Witch—,”

“ _What_ , Draco?” She peered up at him with innocent eyes, the smirk on her mouth threatening to give into a fully-fledged grin. “I thought you said I needed to—,”

“Okay, okay—,”

She settled beside him on her stomach, leaning on her elbows. 

“And besides, once you’re soul-bound, that’s it. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“For life.”

She heard the awe in his voice and it made her feel warm all over. 

“Yep.”

“I don’t think you’re fully grasping the magnitude of this, Hermione. Soul-binding. It’s a big deal.”

“Yes, _Draco_ , I know it’s a big deal. I’ve read over six books on the topic so I’m well aware!”

“And I have no doubt that you did, but you’re essentially signing away your chance at happiness—,”

“What makes you think I’m not happy with you?”

“Are you?”

“Yes! I’m happier with you in this stupid tent than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“But—,”

“But nothing.” She shook her head at him, signalling him not to interrupt. “My life up to the age of eleven was books.” She ignored his chuckle. “Then it was books and my two best friends, one of whom was constantly in some kind of peril. And then, around the age of sixteen, it was books, my friends, and the threat of death lurking around the corner. Every pocket of colour in my life had turned to grey while we fought against the darkness. Against him. Harry, Ron—,” she shut her eyes, “they were my responsibility. As much as I was theirs. We were constantly fighting for our lives.”

She fell silent as she reflected on the past year. 

“ _Then_?” He prompted. 

“Then the castle sealed shut and I was more aware than ever that seven years had gone by without me thinking about myself. I know, that sounds _so_ incredibly selfish—,”

“It doesn’t—,”

“—but I was alone there. I spent most days patrolling and teaching the younger kids. I had spent all this time trying to make the world a better place and I forgot that I deserved happiness. Harry found it in Ginny. Ron found it in Lavender—,”

“Wait on a minute, he’s _back_ with that mindless bint?”

“ _Don’t_ , Draco, it’s not like that anymore.” And it really wasn’t. Any romantic potential between her and Ron had fizzled out. They settled back into their friendship with no awkwardness, and when Lavender had come back into his life, Hermione gave them her blessing. Lavender wasn’t nearly as annoying as she had been during sixth-year. She had toned down the whiny voice as well, which was probably why Ron was able to give the relationship another shot. “He’s happy with her. They’re really good together.”

He just huffed out a disbelieving noise and went back to twisting her curls around his finger. 

“Anyway,” she continued, “all of my friends were so content around me, even in the middle of a war, and I was standing alone. Of course, I had my friends. But—,”

“No one to love.”

At that, they both froze. Love. 

“Anyway,” Hermione resolutely ignored the elephant in the room, “what I’m trying to say is that, though I’m here under bad circumstances and you’re still under _his_ command, I’m really happy. I’m happy because I’m with you. And if we’re soul-bonded, it was meant to be this way. It was fate.”

“For what it’s worth,” Draco said, sounding deep in concentration, “I’m really happy with you, too. I wish it could have been different.”

“Me too. Can you imagine if we had figured this all out earlier?”

“Wouldn’t have gotten the chance. I was such a prick.”

“I know.”

“I’m really glad we got a second chance.”

Hermione felt her heart clutch with emotion. It was so strange to be near this open, unedited Draco. He was so honest. 

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other.”

He didn’t say anything; instead, nudging her chin up so he could kiss her. She fell into the kiss with the luxury of someone who had time. And then a thought struck her. She pulled back and stared up at him, her mind working fast.

“How could you have felt it?”

“Feel what?”

“Sorry, I mean the bond. I felt it when I used your wand. But you never used mine.”

“I felt it last night.”

“Oh. When we—,”

“Slept together, yes.”

“What did the bond feel like for you?”

She felt him run his hand down her spine. 

“Like everything.”

_ Eros _

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“Was it okay?”

“Was what okay?”

“Me. Us. Was I okay?”

“The sex?”

He looked at Hermione, who was lying perpendicular to him, her legs draped across his knees. Her hands were cradling the back of her head and she was doing a spectacular job of avoiding his incredulous gaze.

“Um, yes?”

“Hermione, are you serious? Did I not just tell you it was incredible? That it was everything to me?”

“Don’t _tease_ , Draco—,”

“No,” he shifted so he could crawl over to Hermione, staring down at her so she was forced to look up at him, “I’m not teasing. You’re asking me if you were okay at sex?”

“Well, I’ve got nothing to compare it to. And you said the _bond_ was good, not the sex. So I’m asking you to tell me. Was I rubbish? I haven’t had a chance to practice or anything, you know.” Hermione crossed her hands over her chest, self-consciously. 

“Listen to me—” Draco pulled her to sit upright, “ _listen_ , you batty witch. You are _perfect_. Last night was perfect. Every time we have sex in the future will be perfect. _Every time_ , Hermione. Sex in our bed. Sex in a library, sex in a bathtub. Sex on the fucking Quidditch pitch.” At this, Hermione’s cheeks flushed red, but he continued. “Even if you weren’t soul-bound to me, it would be perfect.”

“So, the soul-binding _does_ enhance sex.”

“Yeah, of course. Wait, don’t they have that in the books?”

“No. The majority of texts on soul-bonds were written during a time when sex wasn’t really discussed in a scientific nature. It was inappropriate. ”

“Well, it’s common knowledge in pureblood families. Sex with your soul-bound partner is more special than any other sex you’ll ever have.”

“It was okay, then?”

“I swear to Salazar, you’re ridiculous, you know that? You’re the smartest witch I know, you’ve saved our school from peril on several occasions, you’ve looked death in the face countless times, and _this_ is where you get insecure?”

“You’re such a prat, you know—,”

“Fine! Yes, Hermione. You were _okay_.”

_ Psyche _

“Why was Blaise wearing Luna’s bracelet?”

She looked up from studying her wand and saw Draco frozen in place as if he had been Petrified.

“ _Draco_.”

“Hmm?”

“Why was Blaise wearing Luna’s bracelet?”

“You saw that?”

“I only just made the connection. I saw it when he hugged me goodbye yesterday.”

“I think maybe he should—,”

“Tell me now.”

“All he’s told me is that they fell in love sometime in the last few years.”

“But she never said!”

“I don’t think it would have been wise for either of them to make their relationship public.”

“Oh, Merlin, poor Luna. I knew something was wrong with her when we closed the castle.”

“What do you mean?”

“She kept disappearing. Wandering off for long periods of time. Her eyes would always be red. I thought maybe she was just affected by the whole situation, you know, because she’s such an empathetic person, but—,”

“It was the direct effect of having her heart broken by Blaise Zabini.”

“Wait, I don’t understand.”

“He told her he didn’t want to be in a relationship with her.”

“But why would he do that?”

“He said he didn’t want her loving a dead man.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. 

“They loved each other?”

“Love. Well, _he_ still loves her. I can’t speak for Luna.” He shut his eyes, his face dismayed. “I never knew. My best friend was in love and I never knew.”

Hermione held onto Draco’s hand, brushing her lips across his knuckles. 

“One day, after all the fighting is over and if we make it out alive, I hope they get to be together.”

_I hope we do, too._

_ Eros _

Draco watched as Hermione demonstrated complex charms with her new wand. She sat up on the bed, the covers pooling around her waist. She was unbothered by her nudity and he felt a swell of pride knowing that she felt comfortable with him. 

“If you twist your wand this way, the butterflies start flying around in circles.”

“Why do we want them to go in circles?”

“Just for fun.”

He watched her smile at her creations fluttering around above her head and fought the urge to break her concentration by kissing her. 

“Are you hungry?”

“A little.”

“Enough that you want me to leave this bed?”

She looked at him with appraising eyes before smiling. 

“No, but you’re just lucky that your girlfriend is such a nice person.”

He saw her eyes widen as soon as the words had slipped past her lips. 

“Is that what you are?”

“Uh—,”

“Are you my girlfriend, then?”

This time, he felt no qualms in tugging her to his side. The butterflies dissolved into thin air as she tucked her head underneath his chin. 

“If you want me to be.” Her voice was small, uncertain, and he placed a kiss on top of her head. 

“I think, seeing as you saved my life, had sex with me three times last night—,”

“ _Malfoy_.”

“—and happen to be soul-bound to me, you could _potentially_ call yourself my girlfriend.”

“Idiot.”

“Nope, that’s ‘boyfriend’ to you. Or sex god, if you would prefer. I will answer to both.”

He welcomed the smack on his chest with a laugh. 

“Oh, Merlin, I can’t believe it. My predecessor was Pansy Parkinson.” She groaned into his chest.

“Ha, she’d probably kill us both if she found out.”

“Hey, what happened to her?”

“Pansy? She was shunted off to Luxembourg before this all started. Her father didn’t want a silly little thing like a Wizarding war interfering with his plans to marry off his daughter.”

“Did she love you?” And then, very quietly, she asked, “Did you love her?”

He felt the second question reverberate around the room. The gravity of it was making his head ache. 

“I don’t—,”

“You aren’t going to hurt my feelings if you say yes, you know.”

“I didn’t love her. Maybe I thought I did in the moment, but in hindsight, it wasn’t love. And she—,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I guess she might have loved me. I don’t know. Maybe she just loved my last name and the bank account attached. It doesn’t matter now. We were thrown together at such a young age.”

“Was it expected that you would marry her?”

“Sort of. My parents had several options for me. The Greengrass sisters were both possibilities. Some girls at Beauxbatons too.”

“And what about you? Did you get a say in the identity of your future wife?”

“It doesn’t work like that, Granger. You know how it is with pureblood traditions.”

“Archaic.”

“It is. But I had no choice.”

_ Psyche _

“You stayed in my room, didn’t you?”

“How did you know?”

“The clothes you were wearing when we got you back. I recognised them.”

“They put me in there. I read all of your books.”

“Naturally.”

“I felt like I was with you there, in some way. Your pillow still smells like you.” She frowned when Draco started to laugh. 

“No, don’t look at me like that,” he chuckled, “I’m just thinking about how I slept on your pillow when you were there.”

“Why?”

“Same reason you slept on mine.”

Hermione felt her heart swell with happiness. 

“It was a small comfort to be in your room.”

“What happened there? I know you don’t like to think about it, but I need to know.”

“Nothing worth repeating, Draco.”

“But you’ll tell me one day?”

She nodded.

“One day. When we’re on the other side of this war.”

_ Eros _

“I adore your hair.”

“Oh, shut _up_ , Malfoy.”

“What?” He flinched as a pillow hit him in the chest.

“You spent _years_ throwing wads of paper into it.”

“Well—,”

“And, what about the year you kept sending a bottle of Sleekeazy’s potion every month?”

“I was trying to get your attention.”

“Well, it didn’t work. You’re terrible at flirting. I wouldn’t even call it that.”

“Excuse me,” he pretended to look affronted, “I’ll have you know that no fewer than eight girls proposed to me during fifth- and sixth-year—”

“Oh, _wow_ , bully for you!”

“—but I only had eyes for you. Obviously, since I had no chance with you back then, I showed affection by my near-constant taunting and insults.”

He watched Hermione roll her eyes up to the heavens and whisper,

“Boys.”

_ Psyche _

“She loved Christmas more than anything. It was her favourite holiday. I loved it too.” Draco said, his gaze far away. Hermione was sitting up, leaning against the headboard, with Draco’s head resting in her lap. She ran her hands through his hair. 

“I bet your house looked like a Christmas store threw up on it.”

“A what?”

“A Christmas st— never mind, it’s not important. Anyway, you were telling me about your mother’s party?”

“Oh, right. So, she was throwing her annual Christmas party and every year, she insists on making this cake from her grandmother.”

“Your mother bakes?” Baked? Hermione didn’t know which tense was correct so she went with the hopeful one. Draco laughed.

“She doesn’t, really. I can’t imagine her cooking or baking anything else. Just this one cake. She never told me where she got the recipe, but she always made it without magic.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why. It was her secret little task every Christmas. Father would have pitched a fit if he found his wife in the kitchens at 7am; the morning of the party, covered in flour. She never let the elves help, either. I used to sit on the countertop and watch her make it. She let me lick the bowls clean.”

Hermione’s heart fell. Blaise had explained everything to her and she felt so bad for Draco. Even though she was missing her own parents, at least they were safely away from danger in Australia. 

Narcissa Malfoy was in limbo.

“What kind of cake was it?”

“Chocolate. _Literally_. Chocolate cake with chocolate mousse in between the layers and chocolate ganache poured over the whole thing. I used to call it the ‘Death By Chocolate’ Cake.”

“It sounds delicious.”

“It was.” He fell silent for a minute before he spoke again, his voice heavy. “I really hope I get to eat it again.”

_ Eros _

“Aren’t you supposed to be going out to a meeting, or something?”

Hermione lay back against Draco’s chest in the bathtub, which he magically extended so it would fit them both without trouble. Her wet curls stuck to his chest and he felt that, if Potter and the Weasel stormed into his bathroom right now, he’d die a happy man. 

“Want to get rid of me, huh?” He ran his hands up and down her thighs. 

“No,” she pushed back against him, the water between their bodies surging away. “I just don’t want you to be whisked away again.”

“We always have a week of rest after attacks.”

“That seems benevolent of him.”

“It’s not him. He’d have us out in the field every day. His council keep him in check. They make sure we have recuperation days.”

“Oh, Godric.” Hermione sat up suddenly, and Draco followed her. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Blaise.”

“Granger, you’re naked and sitting in between my legs, and you’re thinking about _Blaise_?”

She glared back at him. 

“No, I’m serious. Adrian got you back to me and he looked okay, but I never thought to ask how Blaise was.”

“If he was bad, Adrian would have brought him here as well.”

“Are you sure ab—,”

“Relax.” He pulled her back down to lean back against him, and she did so reluctantly. “If you would like, I’ll ask them here tonight for dinner.”

“Yes, please. I need to go over the plan with you all, anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, Draco?”

“Mmm?”

“Invite them for a _late_ dinner.” 

Before he had a chance to fully process the suggestive hint, she had turned in his arms and shifted so she was straddling him.

“Ready to fulfil a fantasy, Malfoy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just a whole day of sex and conversations. You just get to see the conversations - I hope that's okay with you. 
> 
> What do you think? I thought it was about time Draco and Hermione got some time to actually talk to each other without friends/war/Death Eaters/Voldemort interrupting them. 
> 
> They deserve a day, at least. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter, let me know your thoughts! As always, thank you for reading ❤️
> 
> xx nztina


	10. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't write anything for over a week and then I just wrote about 5000 words tonight. It's like I'm trying to break my brain. Also, I commissioned the amazing artist Gilded Shivers to create a piece of art for the previous chapter, so you can find that here: [X](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFImkx8KtN7/)
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter and the artwork!

_ Psyche _

“Aberforth?”

“You’re _sure_ about this?”

“I’m completely sure. I’d bet my life on it.”

“Oh, Danger, you had to go and make this complicated. Aberforth’s such a grouch.”

Hermione watched the three men in front of her pace around the tent like caged animals. Draco had bitten his lip so badly that blood was running down his neck. He spun to face her. 

“What if he won’t help?”

“He will.” At his doubtful expression, she continued. “I _know_ he will. We used to go through the passage to get supplies all the time before it sealed shut.”

“And you’re sure you can open the barrier long enough to get us through?”

“I can. Well,” she tilted her head, “I can with help from the other side. There’s a scout stationed at the edge of the barricade at all times, and I’ll make them get McGonagall to come and help with the spell.”

“What if she thinks it’s a trap?”

“She won’t. We have procedures to check.”

“Hermione—,”

“Draco, I _know_. I know it’s risky but I’ve studied every other entry into the castle and this is our best chance. And it’s safe. The magic barrier can only be lifted if two of the people who cast the protection spell combine their magic, so no Death Eaters can replicate it.”

Adrian sat down on the arm of the chair Hermione occupied and leaned back to sling his arm around her shoulders. 

“If she says it’s the best way, I believe her.” 

“I don’t _doubt_ her, Pucey,” Draco said through gritted teeth, “I’m just worried about her safety.”

“Mate, what could be worse than what’s already happened?”

Blaise smirked. 

“He has a point there. And we’re all worried about her, but she’s Hermione Granger. She’ll be fine.”

_ Eros _

“Are you confident that it will work?”

“I don’t know. It has to.”

“Mate, she’s really not going to like it.”

“I don’t care if she likes it or not. It’s the only way to get the job done, and if that means upsetting her, it’s fine. I need them to have the best advantage they can.”

“ _Us_. Not them. We’re part of it now.”

“She’s going to kill you.”

“I’ll die happy if I know she’s safe.”

_ Psyche _

Hermione waited for Adrian. Draco was away with Blaise on a day-long trip and Adrian was on keep-Hermione-safe duty, much to her protest and chagrin. 

She transfigured several pieces of old clothing from Draco’s closet into suitable clothes for the day they would escape and get back to the castle. Jeans. Shirt. Hoodie. She couldn’t show up in her sweatpants. 

It would be ridiculous. 

At the very least, Professor Snape would laugh at her.

“Oh, darling!” Adrian sang, stepping into the tent. “I’m back from work!” 

“Did you bring food?”

“So impatient.”

“Food. _Now_.” Hermione held out a hand. Adrian enlarged the small plates in his palm to reveal pasta. 

“You take all the fun out of it, Danger.”

“You can make all sorts of jokes when I’m not hungry. Anyway, you were supposed to be back half an hour ago!”

“Sorry. Got stuck chatting to a higher-up. He wanted to know about some work I did last month.”

They sat and ate in silence, until Adrian cleared his throat. Hermione looked up from her plate and realised that the atmosphere in the room had changed.

“I was wondering,” he began - all too politely - and Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Do you know—actually, never mind, I—,”

“ _Adrian,_ what is it? You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“Okay, yes. Right.”

There was a pause. 

“So, are you going to tell me?”

“Yes. I just—,”

“Go ahead.”

“I need to ask you a question, Hermione—,”

At his use of her given name, Hermione dropped her fork to the plate and looked up, attentively,

“—and you have to promise me you won’t get weird or tell anyone about it, okay?”

“What do you mean, get weird?”

“ _Please,_ Hermione—,”

“Of course I promise, Adrian, what is it?”

“Is—,” Adrian focused on a spot on the floor between his shoes, “is Fred okay?”

“Fred—,”

“Is he okay?”

“Fred Weasley?”

“Yeah, he’s in the castle. He and George got to us before we had to lock it down.”

He looked up, relief swimming in his eyes. 

“So he’s safe.”

“Er, yes? Technically. I mean, I don’t know what’s happened in the past few months but I think he’s fine. Why do you want to—,” and then it dawned on her. 

_Fred Weasley._

Adrian saw it in her expression and shook his head. 

“We weren’t together or anything.”

“Did you care about him?”

“I did. I do.”

“Why didn’t he say? Is it because of the whole Death Eater thing?”

“He never—,” Adrian trailed off, looking dejected. He dropped his head to his hands and Hermione felt her heart clench. 

“What?” She sat back, frowning. “He never what?”

“He never knew how I felt.”

Hermione walked over to Adrian, dropping into his armchair. She wrapped her arms around him.

“Do you want him to know?”

“ _No_.” He looked up, panic in his eyes. “No, please don’t tell him. I don’t want him to think that I— because, what if he’s not, I mean— it’s presumption of me to even—,”

“But Fred’s a good man, Adrian. I don’t know if he would feel the same way but you have to try, right?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I never did anything good in my life, Hermione. I wasn’t good. I was a fucking idiot. But he saw me, and I got to know him. He was friends with me even though I was a bad person. His friendship with me— I can’t risk that.”

“When did you become close?”

“When I defected. I stayed in the safe house in Yorkshire for a month before I had to go back to my father. Fred was—,”

“Stationed there, I remember. Actually, I assigned him the post.” Hermione started patting Adrian’s back, soothingly.

It was quiet, and then,

“You’re being really good about this.”

Hermione frowned.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I love _Draco_. I can hardly judge you for falling for a Gryffindor.”

“No,” his voice was muffled against his palm, “I mean, about—,” he left the rest of the sentence unsaid.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Hermione shrugged, “it’s not really a big deal for most Muggles, you know. I was raised to believe that love is love.”

“That’s not how pure-bloods raise their kids.”

“It doesn’t matter, Adrian. You’re a good person. You’re on our side. Who you choose to love — that’s your business and nobody else’s. Fuck your father.”

Adrian lifted his head and smiled. 

“Who knew the Gryffindor princess had such a mouth on her?”

“Oh, shut _up_.”

Hermione watched his expression change from jovial to series in a flash. 

“You can’t tell _anyone_.”

Hermione frowned. 

“I wouldn’t—,”

“No, I’m serious,” Adrian gripped onto Hermione’s wrist with an urgency she had never seen in him, “you can’t tell. I don’t want him to get affected by this.”

“ _Affected_? Adrian, it’s not a crime to like him! Even if he found out—,”

“I can’t think about it, Hermione. I can’t— not until the war ends. I can’t deal with this until then.”

Hermione sighed. Then she nodded.

“Okay. After the war.”

_ Eros _

Draco watched as Hermione stepped out of the bathroom, his eyes hungry and roaming. She had her back to him as she walked to the closet and bent to hunt through her clothes.

“I can feel you staring.”

He tried to tear his gaze away from her legs and failed. 

“I can’t help it.”

“No sex tonight, sorry. We have to go over the plan. We have less than three days, Draco.”

He continued to watch as she dropped her towel and rummaged around the bag of undergarments that Blaise had brought back from Italy at Draco’s request. Blaise had been extremely put out at buying lingerie for a woman he was not courting but acquiesced after Draco promised him a bottle of hundred year-old Firewhisky. Hermione had been very unimpressed at the lacy scraps of material and transfigured half of them into cotton briefs and plain sports bras upon seeing them. Tonight, she pulled on a pair of silky green knickers.

“That’s not fair,” he frowned, shifting off the bed, nearing her with itching fingers. “You can’t just do things like that and expect me to keep my hands to myself.”

Hermione did the clasp on the matching bra and turned to face Draco, a teasing smile on her lips. 

“How about this?” She sidestepped him, his fingers barely grazing her waist before she was out of reach. “You and I discuss the plan in its entirety,” she pulled on a jumper and a pair of sweatpants, “and if you pay constant attention _to the plan_ , don’t try to seduce me during our discussion, and keep your hands off me until we have finished, I will let you transfigure my clothing into my Hogwarts uniform.”

“And then?” Draco was embarrassed by how hoarse his voice was. 

“And then,” Hermione bit her lip in the way she _knew_ got his blood rushing, “you can remove my underwear with your teeth.”

He heard her squeal with laughter when he tilted his head to the heavens and thanked the gods for his good fortune.

_ Psyche _

Disillusioned from sight with a modified charm, Hermione walked around the tent, waving her arms around.

“Anything?”

Blaise shook his head and grinned. 

“Nothing. You’re invisible.”

She revealed herself.

“So everything is in place.”

“I still think we should alert Aberforth beforehand,” Draco said. Hermione watched him rub his temples. “It’s such a bloody risk going in without warning him beforehand.”

“But we’ve already agreed, it’ll alert the men stationed in Hogsmeade if anyone visits there more than once in such a short timespan.”

“She’s right, Draco. And anyway, he trusts her. She’ll — _we_ will be fine.”

_ Eros _

Draco pulled Hermione’s hair back from her face as she dozed across his chest. Her soft puffs of breath fanned across his skin and he smiled. Tomorrow was the day everything would happen. 

Tonight was their last night together in this tent.

If, a year ago, someone had told him of this scenario, he would have laughed at them. He probably would have hexed them. Years of pining would never equate to Hermione lying in his bed. 

Trusting him. Liking him. Kissing him. 

Gods, her _mouth_.

“You stopped.”

He looked down at her to see one accusatory hazel eye staring up at him. The other one was pressed into his chest so the effect was sweet, rather than threatening.

“Did I wake you?”

“You stopped playing with my hair.”

Draco looked at his hand, which had, indeed, stilled in Hermione’s hair. He continued to thread his fingers through her curls. 

“Better?”

“Mmhmm.” She curled back up and closed her eyes, sighing happily.

“Go back to sleep, my love.”

It was the drowsiness. And the lack of sleep. 

And it was the truth.

Before Draco had time to overthink it, or stutter out a misdirect, or anything else that was running through his frenzied mind, Hermione’s hand slipped up from where it rested over his heart. She ran her fingers over his lips without even looking at him. 

“Stop overthinking.”

“I was—,” he started to mumble, when another brush of her fingers against his mouth silenced him. She finally pulled herself up to straddle him, placing a soft kiss against his jaw. 

“Draco, I love you.”

There was an entire minute of silence. 

“Hermione, you don’t have to—,”

“We’re soul-bound, Draco.” Her voice was shaky but she smiled. “I know it’s too soon, and you probably feel like I’m trapping you but would be rather pointless denying how I feel about you. I’m not going to pretend I don’t feel this way, because I do.

And,” she added, quickly, “I don’t expect you to say it back.”

“I—,” he was astounded at her open expression. Of course he loved her. He had loved her before he knew and it was an all-consuming feeling. 

“Yes?”

“I’ve never—,”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve never—?”

“I’ve never said I love you to anyone before,” he blurted out, “apart from my mother.”

“Not even your girlfriends?”

“What girlfriends, Hermione?”

“Pansy? Daphne?”

“No, and no.”

“So, you’ve never been in love?”

He shook his head and borrowed some of her Gryffindor courage to ask,

“Have you?”

Hermione leaned against Draco, her nose pressed against his neck. 

“I _thought_ I did. Once. Nothing like this. Nothing like us.”

“Who? Weasley?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Does it make you angry?”

“No.” It was a half-truth but in all honesty, Hermione Granger was lying almost-naked on top of him so it really didn’t matter if Draco was a little annoyed about the Weasel.

_Stupid Weasel._

She started placing open-mouthed kisses against his chest and his hold on her waist tightened. 

“You don’t have to say it back to me, Draco,” she repeated gently. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Another silence. Draco gently moved Hermione off his body and went to his desk, rifling through the draw until his elbow was nearly swallowed by it. He found the box and closed his hand around it.

“What are you doing?”

“Hang on.”

He came to the bed and tugged Hermione back to him. She kept her eyes on the box as she hesitantly drew her thigh across Draco’s lap to straddle him once again.

“ _Draco_ —,”

“It’s not a ring.”

He opened the box and held it up to her.

“Oh,” she whispered, her eyes wide. Inside the box lay a pair of diamond and pearl drop earrings, set in white gold.

“They’re South Sea pearls. My mother wore them when she was younger and they were passed down from her mother, and her mother before that.” He held the box up to her. “I want you to have them.”

“But, won’t your mother want them back one day?”

“It’s highly unlikely, considering that she gave them to me with the specific instruction to gift them to the woman I love.”

Hermione’s eyes widened further.

“She did?” 

“She did.”

“But I’m a Muggleborn—,”

“And you’re the one for me. She would be thrilled to know we’ve found each other.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Will you wear them? I know they might not be your style, so I understand if—”

She cut him off with a passionate kiss, before reaching for the earrings with trepidatious hands. It took a minute to thread them through her earlobes and she laughed as she struggled.

“Sorry, I haven't worn earrings in years. I’m surprised my piercings are still open at all.”

When they were on and dangling from her earlobes, Draco watched as Hermione brushed her fingers across the pearls in awe.

“I think these must be worth more than my parent’s house.”

“They’re worth _nothing_ compared to you.”

She ignored the extravagant complement, much to his amusement.

“Thank you for giving them to me. I love them.”

This was it. He took a deep breath and said,

“I love you, Hermione.” He brushed his hand against her cheek. She smiled up at him. “How could I not?”

His vision blacked out temporarily when she wantonly rolled her hips against him, his silk boxers and her thin underwear the only material between them.

“Good. I love you, and you love me. So now that we have that settled, will you stop being such a stick in the mud about the plan?”

Draco closed his eyes. 

He couldn’t win this battle. Not against her. Not against her when she was so skilfully seducing him into agreement with her skilled hips and expert tongue. 

“Yes, Granger.”

“Mmm,” she bit down onto his collarbone, inciting a broken inhale from him, “I preferred it when I was your love.”

“You’re my love when you’re not distracting me with your body.”

“I like it so much, Draco.”

He loved her. 

He loved that she liked him calling her his love more than she liked a pair of priceless earrings. He loved her hair and her smile and her intelligence and everything else about her.

“You do?”

She pulled back from her teasing ministrations to look at him, her eyes glistening as she nodded fervently. Then she smiled, so purely that it made his heart ache with happiness. 

“I do. ”

Perhaps in some other life, in some uncertain future, she would repeat those two words to him at the end of an aisle.

A man could hope. 

_ Psyche _

“Are you ready?”

Draco pulled his hood up and smiled at her, nodding. She saw that it was a strained smile and she reached up to kiss it from his mouth.

“Ready.”

“It will be okay. We’ll be safe soon.”

“I know.”

_ Eros _

He pushed the snitch into Hermione’s palm and she raised an eyebrow.

“This is our only hope.” He looked down at the sphere. “You should keep it with you, just in case something goes wrong.”

He watched a crease appear between her eyes.

“Nothing is going to go wrong, Draco. We’re going to get into the castle and we can finally put an end to this war.”

“Just in case, my love.” He wrapped her fingers around the snitch. She pursed her lips and nodded. 

“You’re so paranoid.”

_ Psyche _

Hermione held onto Draco’s elbow as the little group made their way down the cobblestone street to Aberforth Dumbledore’s house. Adrian flanked her other side and Blaise was behind her. She gasped when a young Death Eater in full garb stepped into their path. 

“Afternoon. What brings you to the village?”

“Need an ingredient for a potion we’re brewing.”

“On the Dark Lord’s orders.” Adrian explained. “Need to know, of course.”

“What sort of ingredient?” 

“Bezoars.”

The Death Eater gave the men a blank stare and Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“They come from goats.” Draco sounded as unimpressed as Hermione felt. “We have to go to the Dumbledore house to get them.”

“Oh, yeah?” The Death Eater scratched his head. “Why’s that?”

“Because,” Blaise spoke up, his voice emotionless, “Aberforth Dumbledore keeps goats.”

“Right, right.”

“If that’s all, we’ll be on our way—,” Draco started. The group made to walk past the man but he held out a hand.

“Wait a minute,” he said, and Hermione’s heart dropped to her stomach, “why do you all need to go?”

“We’re not.” Adrian launched into his rehearsed speech. “We’re going to get a drink at the Hog’s Head—,”

“Actually,” Draco interrupted, “I don’t think we need to explain ourselves to you, soldier. Move aside.”

The Death Eater frowned, but stepped out of the path, muttering a soft apology. The group walked up to Aberforth’s pub and let themselves in. Given the fact that it was morning, the place was empty aside from Aberforth, who stood behind the bar. 

“What can I do for you, gents?”

Draco raised a palm and Blaise muttered a silencing spell across the room and a locking spell on the door. Aberforth frowned, reaching into his robes for his wand.

“Sir,” Draco began, “we need to speak with you upstairs.”

“What in Godric’s—,”

“It’s important. It’s for the Order.” 

Hermione watched as Adrian approached the bar with a piece of parchment. It had the symbol for the Deathly Hallows drawn across it, along with the words “ _We have the snitch_ ”. Aberforth’s eyes widened and he looked up at the men, who nodded.

“I’ll come up alone, if you would prefer,” Draco offered.

“Alright.” Aberforth gestured to Draco to follow him and Hermione went along behind them.

When they were upstairs in his personal quarters, Aberforth repeated the silencing spell and turned on Draco. 

“What is going on?”

Hermione revealed herself and Aberforth dropped into the conveniently placed armchair behind him, his mouth open in shock. 

“Hermione Granger?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Prove it. Your alias?”

“Athena. And _your_ alias, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He chuckled.

“Philoetius.” 

Hermione’s shoulders relaxed.

“It’s good to see you, sir.”

“But, how did you—,”

“I got caught during a scouting mission.”

“By him?”

“No. But Draco— he’s on our side, sir. The men downstairs, Adrian and Blaise, they’re on our side, too.”

“But I was told that they defected back—,”

“No, sir. It was a misunderstanding.”

“So you trust him?”

“With my life.”

“And you’re here to—,”

“Get back in through the passage. All four of us.”

“There’s heavy magic guarding the castle, girl. You know that.”

“I know, but if Professor McGonagall and I work the spell from both sides, it’ll be enough to lift it for just a bit.”

“It has to be less than five seconds. Any more than that and it will set off an alarm.”

“I know. We’ll be quick.”

Aberforth grunted in approval.

“Go and fetch those boys, then. Hurry up.”

_ Eros _

While Hermione went to get Blaise and Adrian, Draco quickly revealed his plan to Aberforth. The old man shook his head and sighed. 

“She’ll not like it, boy.”

“I know, sir.”

Footsteps made them look up.

“Ready?” Hermione smiled at him and Draco felt like weeping. 

“Ready.”

They bid goodbye to Aberforth and thanked him for his help. Draco went into the tunnel first, followed by Hermione, then Blaise, then Adrian. They lit their wands to show the way and walked in silence for a long while. 

“What’s that?”

“Where?”

“There’s a light up there.”

“Oh, gods, it’s Dean!” Hermione pushed past Draco to run and he followed her, looking to see Dean Thomas leaning against the wall in the distance.

“Hermione, wait, slow down!”

“Dean! Dean!”

Dean Thomas stood up straight, his wand ready. He faltered when he saw Hermione running towards him. 

“Hermione? Is it—,”

“Dean, I’m so happy to see you!” She placed both hands up, and Draco knew she was feeling for the barrier.

Dean eyed her warily, and then raised his wand to see the three men behind her. Draco knew what was going through the man’s head. 

“What’s with them?”

“They’re still with us. We got it wrong. Draco never betrayed us. I have the snitch with me.”

Dean nodded, still suspicious.

“We thought you _died_. Are you—wait, what’s your codename?”

“Athena. I was beginning to wonder when you’d actually ask me, Dean.”

“And what was the last thing I said to you?”

“Be safe.”

Draco watched as Dean’s expression turned from one of severe mistrust to joy. 

“Hermione, they’ll be so happy to see you. I should—,” he twisted his neck to look behind him, “I should get them.”

“Get McGonagall. I need her to lift the barrier.”

“Okay. Right. Stay there, I’ll be back in a moment.”

_ Psyche _

Hermione turned to face Draco, pressing herself to his body. She felt the thrill of success run through her veins.

“See? I told you we’d be okay!”

He dropped a kiss to her forehead.

“I never doubted you for a second.”

“Liar.”

“These public displays of affection are getting tedious,” Adrian called out from behind them.

“Do you have all your notes with you?” Draco asked, running his hands through Hermione’s curls. She nodded, patting her jacket pockets and hearing the paper crinkle.

“Yes, of course. But I still don’t know why you can’t just tell everyone yourself—,”

“Because—,”

“Hey, someone’s coming,” Blaise said. Hermione turned and watched as Professor McGonagall walked towards her. 

The older witch held her wand up, the light from it shining brightly across Hermione’s face.

“What is Hermione Granger’s father’s favourite type of cake?”

Hermione smiled, happy to hear her teacher’s thick Scottish accent once again. 

“Black Forest.”

“And where does she have a set of three freckles in a triangle formation?”

“Her left shoulder.” It wasn’t Hermione who spoke.

Hermione and Professor McGonagall both glared at Draco. He grinned, sheepishly. 

“Sorry. Ask her another question, Professor.”

“What is Hermione Granger’s favourite Muggle-authored book?”

“ _Great Expectations_ by Charles Dickens.”

Her teacher’s weary face relaxed. 

“Oh, my dear,” she said, tears forming, “we really thought you were gone.”

“Draco saved me. Blaise, Adrian and Draco, they saved me. I was wrong. They’re all with us.”

“Come forward, Mr Malfoy. You also, Mr Zabini and Mr Pucey.”

Hermione watched her ask each of them a set of questions and when she was happy with their answers, Hermione came forward again. 

“We’re coming in, Professor. We have the snitch with us.”

“You know the lifting spell?”

“Yes. I remember.”

“Can you borrow a wand from one of—,”

“No, it’s okay. I have my own.” She raised it into view.

“Oh! I see.” 

Hermione heard the shock in her teacher’s voice and smiled.

“When we do the spell, we have to run straight through as quickly as possible,” she addressed the men behind her. They nodded. 

“Are you ready?” McGonagall asked, before turning to speak to Dean, who was behind her. “Mr Thomas, you need to count down from five as soon as we open the barrier. He nodded. 

“On the count of three, alright?” Hermione raised her wand. McGonagall mirrored her. 

“One.”

Inhale.

“Two.”

Exhale.

“Three.”

Inhale.

“ _Revela Castellum!_ ”

“ _Revela Castellum!_ ”

“FIVE,—,” Dean started shouting. Hermione hightailed it through the opening in the barricade, her wand aloft to hold the spell. She brushed past both Professor McGonagall and Dean to allow the boys room to follow.

“FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE!”

The spell broke and she spun to face Draco—

“Draco?”

She peered around McGonagall to see Draco standing on the other side of the barrier, his face grim, his hand flat against the barrier. Adrian and Blaise stood behind him, looking at her with sad eyes.

“Hermione—,”

“What did you do?!” She shrieked.

“We can’t come with you, my love. It was never the plan.”

She placed both palms up, pressing against the protective magic. She couldn’t touch him.

“You lied to me.”

She saw his mouth tremble.

“You were always going to go back alone. We can’t.”

“I planned it out. We were all going to be safe.” She could feel hot tears running down her cheeks. 

“I know. I know, and I’m so sorry.” He was crying, too. 

“Why, Draco? Why would you do this?”

“If we disappeared from camp, he would go crazy. Who knows how many Muggles he would order to be killed in retaliation—,”

“But we were going to—,”

“We have to be out there when you all come out fighting. Don’t you see? They’ll be so focused on your army coming that they won’t see the Trojan horse in their own camp.”

Hermione slammed a fist against the barricade.

“You said you would come into the castle with me.”

“I know.”

“You’re not safe, Draco.”

“But _you_ are, Hermione. It was always to save you. That’s why I made you write down everything. That’s why you have the snitch.”

“Mate, we have to go, it’ll look odd if we’re not back soon.” Blaise said, shouldering his way to Hermione. “Listen, Hermione. I know you’re angry at us right now, but we all agreed that this was what had to happen. And I need you to do something for me.”

Hermione wiped her face with her sleeve. 

“What?”

“Tell Luna I never stopped loving her. Tell her I’m going to fight to get back to her.”

Hermione burst into tears again.

“I will,” she blubbered. She felt McGonagall press a steadying hand to her arm. “Blaise, you could have told her yourself.”

“I’m doing this for her. Promise me, Hermione. _Please_.”

“I’ll tell her, I promise. I’ll make sure she knows.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Adrian timidly looked at Hermione, wringing his hands. 

“Don’t be mad at me..”

“You’re a jerk, Pucey.”

“I know.”

“Please be safe.”

He managed a small smirk.

“Of course, darling. I’m a tenacious bastard.”

He blew her a kiss before allowing Draco to move back up to her.

“I won’t see you again until the magic lifts, maybe until we come out of this,” he started, his hands in the pockets of his cloak. “I need you to know, if anything should happen to me, that you made me the happiest man on earth.”

“Draco, _don’t_ —,”

“I am so emphatically sorry that this happened to you. You were never supposed to be in such danger. But I don’t regret our time together. Every moment I spent with you was more precious to me than any fortune I will ever have in my life.”

His words made her heart shatter into a million pieces.

“Hermione, dear, they need to get back,” McGonagall whispered to her. “It’s not safe for them to be here this long.”

Draco nodded, turning to his old teacher. 

“Professor, we will do everything in our power to aid you from the outside.”

“I don’t doubt it, son. We will move at dusk on the next full moon.”

“Understood.”

“Keep safe,” she instructed in her stern voice, “all of you.”

The men nodded. Draco turned back to Hermione and she drank in his appearance for the last time. He reached up to press his hands against the barricade again and she mirrored his actions.

“I love you.”

She looked at him through tear-stained eyes.

“I love you.”

“Come, now, Hermione. Let’s go.”

She watched Draco get dragged away by Blaise, keeping his head turned towards her as he ran down the passageway until she couldn’t see his face anymore. When he was gone, she felt Dean’s hand slip through hers, tugging her along with him. When they made it to the end of the passage and she stepped out through the portrait hole, she was blinded by the brightness of daylight. 

An overwhelming wave of emotion crashed over her and she crumpled to the ground, sobbing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to **muse incognita** for being an incredible alpha for an idea that starts in this chapter and **valancyjane74** , for helping me figure out that Draco gave Hermione pearl drop earrings - I was really drawing a blank. I appreciate your help so much!
> 
> When I wrote this, I had that feeling when you're about to go on a plane somewhere far away and you have to say goodbye to people you love at the airport. I hate that feeling. 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter!


	11. Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FLASHBACK: Set sometime between April and June, 1998. 
> 
> After the capture at Manor, Draco was put in a safe house and Narcissa went on the run to avoid the Snitch falling into the wrong hands. 
> 
> What follows is the correspondence between the Order and Draco Malfoy while in safe house locations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, friends!
> 
> I was on holiday this past week and I got home last night, quite desperate to write Ch. 11. I just finished it, so here we go!
> 
> If you have been reading my work for a while, you know I'm a sucker for a good letter. Obviously, this is not a story that would accommodate pithy love letters so I decided to write in short correspondence between members of the Order. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and that you don't find it too difficult to match up codenames to the characters - I've written a key. Please do not read TOO deeply into the codenames, some of them fit well (Achilles & Thetis, for example) but some of them are just there with no deeper meaning.

KEY:

Achilles — Draco Malfoy

Ajax — Vincent Crabbe

Antenor — Ron Weasley

Athena — Hermione Granger

Hades — Severus Snape

Hecuba — Poppy Pomfrey

Hector — Harry Potter

Hera — Minerva McGonagall 

Nestor — Kingsley Shacklebolt

Odysseus — Remus Lupin

Romulus - Bill Weasley

Thetis — Narcissa Malfoy

Eagle’s Nest — Hogwarts Castle

Golden Egg — Snitch

To: Nestor

_Situ worse. Snake potentially moving closer to Eagle’s Nest. How to proceed?_

From: Achilles

— — — 

To: Achilles

_Need more info. Time?_

_Have reached safe house?_

From: Nestor

— — — 

To: Nestor

_Have no more info. Safe house okay._

_Low on rations._

_Whereabouts of Thetis?_

From: Achilles

— — — 

To: Achilles

_Nestor unavailable for corresp. I am taking over until permanent replacement can be found._

_Thetis is safe. Last sighting two days ago._

_Sending rations with Romulus soon._

_Ready yourself to come to the Eagle’s Nest. Will be sooner than expected._

From: Odysseus

— — — 

To: Odysseus

_Thank you, sir._

_Please keep me informed on Thetis’ safety._

_Will expect Romulus’ arrival._

From: Achilles

— — — 

To: Achilles

_Nestor asks for update. Any news on w. front?_

_Inform allies of situ: preparing for lockdown if golden egg unobtainable in timeframe._

_Work toward orig. dates._

_Snake averted for time being. Not confirmed. Have no news from others in field._

From: Odysseus

— — — 

To: Odysseus

_Snake averted, confirmed. Short delay only. Prep. for worse case scen._

_Informed allies of situ. Will get golden egg to Eagle’s Nest._

_Hector ready?_

From: Achilles

— — — 

To: Achilles

_Athena here. Have been assigned to perm. role as prim. contact for you._

_Have been informed of status updates for Thetis. Safe, last sighted in Normandy. Trying to get more info. if possible, will let you know._

_Hector in position for arrival of Golden Egg - waiting on Thetis to make contact w. you. Plan in motion for any given full moon._

From: Athena

— — —

To: Athena

_Athena, I’m sorry for everything I did, and everything I did not do. Truly._

From: Achilles

— — — 

To: Athena

_Understand if unwilling to be handler for me._

From: Achilles

— — — 

To: Achilles

_Don’t be an idiot._

From: Athena

— — — 

To: Athena

_Thank you._

_Received rations supply from Romulus. Healing potions appreciated._

_Hope you are well._

From: Achilles

— — — 

To: Achilles

_Good, wanted to make sure the house had enough stock._

_Romulus says you are looking too thin. Make sure you eat your allotted rations._

_Do not use Dreamless Sleep unless necessary as v. potent batch - made Antenor pass out for three days._

_I am well. Wish I could be out in field, but training with Hecuba and teaching. Working on potions repertoire. You were good at potions - wishing you were here to do some of the boring work. How are you?_

From: Athena

— — —

To: Athena

_Am eating. Food is okay. Who made the cake? V. bad._

_Will not use Dreamless. Next time, dilute with fluxweed for less potency._

_All I read is that you wish I was there._

_I am okay. Bored. Dreading call back into field. Snake is unpredictable._

_What are you doing aside from duties?_

From: Achilles

— — —

To: Achilles

_I baked the cake, you complete arse. Also, sending books w. Romulus so you won’t be bored. As punishment, all Muggle. Ha!_

_Thanks for the tip about fluxweed, have tried it and successfully diluted potion._

_You can keep dreaming. I bet you wish you were here. _

_I am reading._

From: Athena

— — —

To: Athena

_Not a punishment. Have started reading Great Expectations. Enjoying. You’re Pip and I’m Estella._

_I do wish I was there. Hate being out in field._

_Of course you are reading. So predictable._

From: Achilles 

— — — 

To: Achilles

_URGENT: Move to Location XX03_

_Safe house compromised. Will send Romulus with rations soon. Make do with what you have until then._

_Are you okay? Is Ajax okay? Answer soon. Worried._

From: Athena

— — — 

To: Athena

_Safe._

From: Achilles

— — — 

To: Athena

_We are safe. Got out just in time, with all important possessions - wands, potions, books. (I knew you wouldn’t forgive me if I left the books behind.)_

_Are you worried about both of us? Or is it just me that keeps you up at night?_

From: Achilles

— — — 

To: Achilles

_Has anyone ever told you that you’re an obnoxious prat?_

_Worried about BOTH OF YOU._

_I am not happy you saved the books - you are supposed to be focused on your OWN safety. Books are replaceable, you are not._

_Have you finished G.E.? What did you think?_

From: Athena

— — — 

To: Athena

_Admit that you are in love with me._

_Liked G.E. esp. loved when horse kills Drummle. Estella deserved a happy ending w. Pip. Sad they could not be together for so long when all that held them apart was circumstance._

_Are you okay? How is life in Eagle’s Nest? Planning to step out? Or staying indefinitely?_

From: Achilles

— — —

To: Achilles

_Oh, yes, that’s it. You’ve caught me out on my secret: I’m totally in love with you._

_Not._

_A lot more than circumstance kept Estella and Pip apart. I was also happy that they finally got a chance at happiness. I love Miss Havisham. She is so weird._

_I am fine - better than so many people so how can I complain?_

_Eagle’s Nest is okay. I want to go out into field for missions but Hera will not allow._

_Thetis seems to be making her way to you. Hopefully she is still in possession of Golden Egg. Do not attempt to make contact with her. Too suspicious._

_Are you eating?_

From: Athena

— — —

To: Achilles

_URGENT: Move to Location XX07_

_Are you okay? Write as soon as you can. Is Ajax okay?_

From: Athena

— — — 

To: Achilles

_URGENT: Please respond. Are you alright? Is Ajax alright?_

_Let me know. I am worried._

From: Athena

— — — 

To: Achilles

_URGENT: Please let me know that you’re okay._

_If you are getting these messages, send me some kind of response._

_Please message back x_

From: Athena

— — —

To: Athena

_Sorry. I am safe. Made it to XX07. Ajax dead. Didn’t survive injuries._

_Will send longer message later. Injured and tired._

_Don’t be worried, am okay x_

From: Achilles

— — —

To: Achilles

_Thank Merlin you are safe._

_I am so sorry about Ajax. What happened? We are getting reports but nothing clear yet. Did anyone recognise you/Ajax?_

_Please tell me what your injuries are - XX07 has a very good stock of supplies and potions._

_Be safe x_

From: Athena

— — — 

To: Athena

_Buried Ajax in garden. Wish I could tell his mother. He was brave until the end, told me that he wasn’t in pain when he was bleeding out. Also wanted to tell you all that he was sorry that he couldn’t help the Eagle’s Nest. I tried to heal him, but too late._

_No one recognised, attack was from far away, too far for them to see us. Cowardly._

_Don’t worry. Found supply of dittany. All bleeding stopped, just resting now._

_I am safe. Tell me about something to get my mind off Ajax’s death, please?_

_Hope you are okay x_

From: Achilles

— — — 

To: Achilles

_I am so so so sorry you had to go through that alone. I wish I could have been there to help you bury Ajax. It is not something you should have faced on your own. We will honour him in the Eagle’s Nest._

_Please let me know if any of your injuries are causing issues, or if anything is not healing correctly. I am still v. worried because you were useless at healing yourself in any given situation during school._

_Here is something to make you smile:_

_All the girls in my dorm had a crush on you. They used to stay up late to discuss your antics and talk about your stupid hair and the girls you were dating. When we got older, the rumours had become so wild that I think most of them were plucked from thin air. I hope you are smiling to know that your adoring fans were not exclusively from the dungeons._

_I am okay. I am too worried about you to be doing anything else._

_Keep yourself safe x_

From: Athena

— — —

To: Athena

_I raised a toast to him last night. Send better Firewhisky._

_Injuries are healing perfectly well, I can’t believe you doubt my talents._

_I am extremely thrilled to hear that ALL the girls in our year had a crush on me. Tell me, did you dream about me at night or were you just staring at the back of my head during class? Both, maybe?_

_What were the rumours? I’ll tell you if they were true._

_You keep telling me to be safe but you’re currently located at the biggest target in the Wizarding world._

_You be safe. Will be v. cross if I find out you’ve gone and martyred yourself doing something brave and foolish x_

From: Achilles

— — —

To: Achilles 

_Thetis last seen near Brighton, four days ago. Appears to be heading to you. Delay in plans - one month, maybe longer. Stay put, orders from Nestor coming._

_You clearly haven’t changed. I’m not telling you anything. Your ego is too inflated as it is._

_I am allowed to send through extra rations this week. Not by Romulus, trialling new system for sending goods. Expect by waxing crescent moon. What would you like?_

_Lioness, remember? I can’t help my foolish and have tendencies._

_Be safe x_

From: Athena

— — — 

To: Athena

_APPLES._

_Send apples, please. Green, if possible. And chocolate. Any will do._

_Only send if you can spare some, if not, do not worry. I have become v. fond of toast and tea._

_Thank you for update x_

From: Achilles

— — — 

To: Athena

_Heard radio alert - are you okay???_

_Send reply soon or will think worst. Will not forgive you if you die._

From: Achilles

— — —

To: Achilles

_Am okay. Attack was in courtyard, no fatalities on our side. Several casualties. Writing from hospital wing, but do not worry, did not die. Haha._

_Not allowed to stay awake anymore._

_Goodnight x_

To: Athena

— — — 

To: Athena

_What the hell did you do to yourself?!!_

_Who died on other side?_

_Please be safe x_

From: Achilles

— — —

To: Achilles

_Regrowing bones in arm. Better now._

_Deaths: CY, IK_

_Luckily all children were sleeping._

_What are you reading right now?_

_Be safe x_

From: Athena

— — —

To: Athena

_Attack on London sounded bad. Any news? Thetis update?_

_I finished reading S &S and think Marianne is the stupidest person alive. _

_“Oh, he’s broken my heart, let me go and die.”_

_What an idiot._

_Hope you are okay x_

From: Achilles

— — —

To: Achilles

_I don’t like Marianne either._

_No update on Thetis. Will send message as soon as new info comes through._

_I am fine. Bored. How are you? x_

From: Athena

— — — 

To: Athena

_So, we finally agree on something. Did not think I would live to see the day._

_I’m bored, too. Tell me about yourself, please?_

_Be safe x_

From: Achilles

— — — 

To: Achilles

_I like chocolate, ABBA, the colour green and picnics._

_I don’t like Rita Skeeter and Brussels sprouts._

_My favourite song is “Hey Jude” by the Beatles._

_Now you have to tell me something about yourself x_

From: Athena

— — —

To: Athena

_What is an ABBA? Also, you like GREEN! That’s too good._

_I don’t like Rita Skeeter either. And I hate liquorice._

_I love sunny days, quidditch, and poetry - but don’t tell anyone._

_What are the lyrics to your favourite song? x_

From: Achilles

— — —

To: Achilles

_Thetis last seen in Wiltshire yesterday._

_ABBA is a Swedish band. I wish I could send music for you. One day when this is all over, I’ll play you their Gold album._

_Here is a bit of the song:_

_"Hey Jude, don't make it bad_

_Take a sad song and make it better_

_Remember to let her into your heart_

_Then you can start to make it better_

_Hey Jude, don't be afraid_

_You were made to go out and get her_

_The minute you let her under your skin_

_Then you begin to make it better_

_Oh oh oh, and anytime you feel the pain_

_Hey Jude, refrain_

_Don't carry the world upon your shoulders_

_For well you know that it's a fool_

_Who plays it cool_

_By making his world a little colder."_

_Hope you liked the words, secret-poetry-lover x_

From: Athena

— — — 

To: Hera

_Hope you are well. I am worried that Athena is too attached to Achilles. Have been monitoring exchanges. They have become friendly._

_Please organise new contact for Achilles._

From: Nestor

— — — 

To: Athena

_If you tell anyone, you’ll have to sleep with one eye open._

_Thank you for the lyrics._

_I can’t wait for this to be over. I never thought I would miss the Eagle’s Nest but I really do._

_How are you? x_

From: Achilles

— — —

To: Achilles

_Thetis nearing w. Golden Egg._

From: Hades

— — — 

To: Hades

_Thanks for update._

From: Achilles

— — —

To: Achilles

 _Thetis will be in position for trade when moon is dark_.

From: Hades

— — — 

To: Hades

_Thanks for update. Where is Athena?_

From: Achilles 

— — —

To: Achilles

_Needed elsewhere. Reassigned._

From: Hades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment to let me know what you think of this chapter! If it's not in a style you like, don't worry, we resume normal practices in Chapter 12!
> 
> xx nztina


	12. Castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sweet friends, you are so patient. Here is a 5k as a thank you.
> 
> I have been very busy writing for the Dramione RomCom Fest - I've started a WIP called [Regrets Only](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26892574/chapters/65619334), if you would like to check it out. Actually, please check out all the entries into the fest, everyone has done so brilliantly. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter - it was a bit of housekeeping I had to do within the story (Hermione's return to Hogwarts) so it doesn't progress the story at all, just gives you a peak at other characters within the story.

_ Psyche _

Hermione woke up to a dark, quiet room. She burrowed into her blankets, stretching an arm out to feel for Draco. He was always so deliciously warm. Her hand did not meet his body.

Something was different. 

Where was his scent?

She opened her eyes and suddenly, a tidal wave of nausea swept over her. She lifted herself from the bed and blinked at the—

Four-poster bed.

Her bed. 

At Hogwarts. 

And then, the nausea gave way to horror and she gasped in a ragged breath, her voice unused and hoarse. 

“Oh, Merlin, you’re awake. Hermione? Hermione, it’s me—,” someone was speaking to her, pressing a hand to her arm, but she could see nothing more than a slew of memories. Draco. The tent. The war. Adrian and Blaise. The barrier.

Draco. 

Oh gods. 

“What happened?”

She wondered who said it, but logically, it could only be herself. As Draco’s face faded from her vision, Hermione flicked her gaze toward the person still holding onto her arm. Lavender Brown. The other girl looked visibly uncomfortable, and she opened and closed her mouth several times before she finally spoke.

“Um, I’m so sorry, I’m not allowed to say—,”

“What happened after I came back?”

Another pained look. Lavender sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for something on the side table.

“We only just persuaded Ron and Harry to go and get some rest half an hour ago. Ginny’s getting some food but I guess I’m your welcome back party. Anyway, Madame Pomfrey told me to give you this, so…” she gestured for Hermione to drink the contents of the vial. She obliged, her body too tired to ask what it was. She couldn’t be suspicious; they were inside the castle, where it was safe. 

And Draco and the boys were outside, more and more in danger as the minutes passed. 

Hermione swallowed the potion in one gulp and winced at the taste. 

“She said it would be revolting. Here’s the second one you have to take.” Lavender swapped the vial for another. Hermione repeated her previous action, and was grateful to find this potion more palatable than the last. The fog was clearing from her mind and she was able to think clearly now.

“Lavender,” she held onto her friend’s wrist, desperation creeping into her voice, “please. _Please_ tell me if you’ve heard anything. What day is it?”

“Well, I can’t say about the first bit, but I can tell you that you came back to us three days ago, and that you’ve been sound asleep until now.”

“What?!”

“It’s not uncommon, you know,” Lavender leaned in, looking something akin to conspiratorial, “when you’re soul-bound with someone.”

Hermione reared back in surprise. 

“How—,” she began, “I mean, did I say someth—I don’t remember—did I?”

Lavender laughed lightly and shook her head. 

“Don’t worry. Ginny and I figured it out. The boys were happy to believe you were just tired, but we knew something else was up. We asked McGonagall and she told us that you and Draco Malfoy had gotten,” her breath hitched, her eyes amused, “ _close_.”

“So you automatically assumed it was that?” _Surely Lavender wasn’t that deductive._

Another soft laugh.

“No, silly. My grandparents were soulmates. My Grandma told me all about it.”

“What did she say?” Hermione was so curious to hear more about soul-binding from a real experience that she forgot about the situation for a minute. 

“She told me that when a soul-bound couple are separated unwillingly, they deteriorate. She was separated from my Grandpa during the war for five months before he came back, and she got really ill during that time. He did too. That’s why he got injured, actually, because he wasn’t strong enough to fight properly.”

“What happened to them?”

“Well,” Lavender smoothed the bedspread and patted Hermione’s knee, “they were reunited when he got sent back. They regained their health.”

“So you’re saying Draco’s like this, too? He’s weak?”

“Gosh, it’s weird to hear you call him that. Draco,” she giggled. 

“ _Focus,_ Lavender.”

“Sorry. Uh, yes. I suppose so. It’s not like a mutual thing, you know? It doesn’t have to be both of you wanting to be together. Sorry, no, that sounds bad. I don’t mean—what I meant to say is that, well, McGonagall told us he willingly let you go away from him to keep you safe—,”

At this, Hermione hung her head. 

“—but my Grandpa went to war willingly, and _he_ suffered, so I guess if one of the pair is unwilling, both people are hurt.”

The idea of hurting Draco, albeit unintentionally, made Hermione’s heart feel like it was being held in a vice and she reached blindly to hold onto Lavender’s hand. Her friend welcomed the embrace and patted Hermione’s head, mumbling soft, comforting words over her.

“ _Hermione_!” 

She pulled away from the hug to see Ginny standing in the doorway, two plates of food hovering in front of her. 

“Gin, oh, I’m so—,” she could only get that much out before the plates crashed to the ground and Ginny was on the bed, squeezing her so hard that she felt a little light-headed.

“You were supposed to be _gentle_ , Ginny,” Lavender reminded her, trying to help Hermione escape the suffocating bear hug. The redhead pulled back to inspect her, her eyes roaming across Hermione’s body. 

“How are you? When did she wake up? Are you hungry? How is she? How are you? Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Did she drink the potions?” She rattled off a series of questions to both the girls and neither of them could get a word in. 

“Ginny, I’m fine!”

Her friend sat back on her haunches, looking worried. 

“You slept for three days straight because your soulmate has been taken away from you, Hermione. There were times when you were barely breathing, did you know that? You’re not _fine_.”

“Ginny!” Lavender looked mortified, her voice raising in pitch. “You weren’t supposed to _worry_ her!”

“Sorry.” Ginny looked abashed. “Sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione was staring at her hands, wondering if Draco had been barely breathing. If _he_ was close to death. All because of her. 

“I think,” she looked up at her friends, “I’d like to eat something.”

Her stomach was empty and she was desperate for a glass of water.

“We’ll get you something. I suppose that’s no good,” Ginny looked down at the shattered plates on the hardwood floor.

“I’ll get them this time.” Lavender slipped off the bed and walked away, downstairs. 

Ginny turned to Hermione and affectionately brushed her knuckles across her cheek. 

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. I missed all of you.”

“They’ll want to know everything you can tell them.”

“Draco made me write everything down. I thought he was so silly, when he could have told everyone himself. I thought he was being paranoid. I only realised when it was too late—,” she broke off, her voice weakening.

“—that he wasn’t coming.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry. But let’s talk about that, shall we?”

“What?”

“You and Draco Malfoy? Gryffindor princess and the Slytherin prince?” Hermione winced at the nicknames. “You can imagine my shock when old Minerva said you and Malfoy seemed close, and then Lavender deduced that you were probably soul-bound to him because you were so weak.”

“Oh, yes. It was a bit of a surprise.”

“A bit of a surprise? Hermione, I don’t mean to be hyperbolic, but when the war ends, this will probably be bigger news than Voldemort dying.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. 

“You haven’t changed, have you?”

Ginny shrugged, smiling.

“You sorted it all out, then?”

“I wish it were that simple, Ginny. We really failed him _. All of them_. We just abandoned them.”

“Don’t think like that, Hermione. You can’t. Everything happened the way it was meant to happen.”

“You really think so?”

“You found your _soulmate_ , Hermione. That’s something that almost never happens, especially during a war.”

“I guess so. It’s hard to be excited when I’m here and he’s there.”

“It’ll be okay. You will be back with him soon. We’ve got the Snitch. That’s all we needed.”

“Do they know?”

Both girls knew exactly where the conversation had led. Harry and Ron. 

“No.”

“Do you think they’ll be mad?”

“I don’t know,” Ginny’s lips pursed, her face worried, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea to get too elaborate about it. I do think you should tell them, but leave out the details. At the moment, all they know—all that anyone knows—is that Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Adrian Pucey are all fighting for the Order and that they never betrayed us. Same with Narcissa Malfoy.”

“Good,” Hermione breathed out, relieved, “I’m glad. I didn’t want anyone thinking badly of them, especially when they all risked their lives to save mine.”

“No, don’t worry. McGonagall alerted the whole castle.”

“Are _you_ mad? I know people haven’t fully accepted him—,”

Ginny shook her head.

“I’m only mad that you got a romance novel experience while the rest of us were here, twiddling our thumbs.”

“You sure?”

“As far as I’m concerned, he’s a hero. He kept you safe in a fucking Death Eater camp.” 

“He did. Except for the bit where Voldemort kidnapped me.”

“Wait, what? Are you serious?!”

“Later. Please, I’ll explain later. I don’t want to talk about it more than once.”

“Right, yeah. Of course.” 

Ginny eyed her warily, startled with this news. A minute passed and then her eyebrows lifted, playfully. 

“ _So_ …how was the sex? I heard it’s fucking epic when you’re soul-bound.”

Hermione closed her eyes and exhaled, a small smile toying with the edge of her mouth.

“You _really_ haven’t changed at all, have you, Gin?”

Lavender walked into the room, carrying a large pile of buttered toast, three cups and a steaming pot of tea on a tray.

“Who’s hungry?”

— — — 

By the time Hermione finished her last piece of toast, she was feeling monumentally better. It was a combination of the food, and seeing her friends again. Draco was still in her mind, but she forced herself to only think of the good memories. For his sake. 

There was a commotion outside and she looked up to see Ron and Harry wedged in the doorway, staring at her like she was a wraith. 

There was a silence. 

Then,

“Hermione, oh, thank Godric, we were so worried. I swear, we never stopped believing, even though we held a memorial, sort of—,”

“Are you hurt? Did he lay a finger on you, Hermione, you tell me right now, I’ll murder that pointy-nosed bastard. What happened? How are you? Why did you sleep—,”

“Oi, both of you,” Ginny, interjected, “she’s still weak, stop being so—,”

“EVERYBODY SHUT UP NOW!” 

Everyone turned to look at Lavender. She was red in the face and her wand was held aloft. 

“Love, calm—,”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down, Ron Weasley—,”

“Sorry, love.” It was a very meek reply and Hermione bit her cheek to keep from smiling.

“—No one is shouting questions at Hermione, alright? Ginny and I are going to give you three some privacy but if I hear any yelling,” she directed a glare at her boyfriend, “I _will_ come back in here, understood?”

Harry and Ron nodded, looking down at their feet. Ginny rolled her eyes and walked out, Lavender following behind. They shut the door behind them and Ron gingerly walked to the edge of Hermione’s bed, eyeing her like she was sporting a third eye. Harry stood where he was, a hand covering his mouth like he couldn’t believe she was really there. 

“How—how are you? How are you feeling?” Ron asked, a hand resting against one of the posts of her bed like he needed the support. Hermione tilted her head and felt it crack satisfyingly.

“Okay. Tired.”

“Did you eat enough?” He gestured to the empty plate in front of her. “I can get you some more, or—,”

“Oh, forget the damned food, would you two just get over here?!” Hermione lifted her arms and, as if she was a magnet, the two boys— _men_ —swooped across the room to hug her. They stayed like that for a long while; Ron crouched at her side and Harry half-on, half-off the bed, their head buried into either side of her neck. 

“Fuck, Hermione, we missed you so, so much,” Harry said, “didn’t we, Ron?”

“ _So_ much. It was like second-year, when you were petrified. We were totally lost with you,” came Ron’s muffled reply. Hermione kissed the tops of their heads before they finally released her. Ron’s hands stayed on her knees and Harry kept ahold of her elbow. It was like they were scared to let her go again. 

“It was our fault. You never should have been in that situation. It should have been one of us, not you.”

“No, Harry, don’t be ridiculous. I did what any of us would have done. Anyway, I’m glad it was me. He would have killed you.”

“You were out there for _months_ , Hermione. What the hell happened? Did you meet him?”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it!” yelled Ginny, from where she stood outside the door.

“Get _lost_ , Ginny!”

— — — 

They were in Professor McGonagall’s office, using the Pensieve. Hermione had offered to give them the memories of her second time at Malfoy Manor and she waited for everyone to finish watching. Luna came out first and came to sit next to Hermione on the couch in the corner of the room. She hugged Hermione, streaks of tears running down her face. 

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, Luna. Don’t be sad. I need to tell you about—”

She had barely begun to relay Blaise’s message before Ron was stumbling towards them, his face red. 

“He tortured you! What a fucking piece of shit! I’ll kill the bloody bastard—,”

Harry was close behind him, yanking him back. There was a quiet rage simmering in his features but he kept calm.

“Enough, mate.”

“But,” Ron gestured to Hermione and Luna’s hold on her hand tightened, “he tortured her!”

“That is quite enough, Mr Weasley.” Professor Snape said, “Miss Granger already knows what he did.”

“Everyone out for a minute, please.” Professor McGonagall commanded, adjusting her spectacles. Luna left, alongside a tearful Ginny. Dean and Neville followed Professor Snape, both of them looking grim. “Go on, Mr Weasley, you can talk to her later.” 

Reluctantly, Ron allowed Harry to pull him out of the office and Hermione was left alone with her teacher. Professor McGonagall came to stand in front of her, the memory back in the vial in her hand. Her eyes were red behind her glasses. 

“Miss Granger,” she said, and her voice wavered, “we will have to keep this, I’m afraid. For—,”

“After. I know. It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

McGonagall sat down next to her on the couch and took one of hands. 

“I want you to know how unbelievably proud I am of you. You showed bravery in the face of such a horrific danger, and you never once faltered.”

“He didn’t mean it. The torture.”

At McGonagall’s curious look, Hermione elaborated. 

“He’s lost his mind, as you saw. It was just for fun, torturing me. It was like playing with a pet.”

“But it—did it not hurt?”

“Oh, it hurt. But not like Bellatrix. She _really_ wanted to hurt me. She wanted me to die. Voldemort didn’t mean it like she did.” 

Hermione found herself struggling to keep from crying and she didn’t know why. Her teacher’s arms wrapped around her. 

“Let it out, dear.”

That was all it took, apparently. Hermione cried. Gut-wrenching, heart-aching sobs that exhausted her. She cried for herself and the pain and fear she felt during the time at the Manor. She cried for her friends. She cried for the people who had died. She cried because she was desperately missing Draco.

When she couldn’t cry any longer, she pulled away, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Showing weakness like that…” she mumbled, and then, to herself, “ _so stupid_.”

“Hermione Granger, you listen to me.” Professor McGonagall, in a surprisingly passionate way, caught her wrists and forced her to make eye contact. “Don’t you _ever_ say that about yourself again. You sacrificed your freedom and safety to go out there in the place of younger students, and you did so bravely. A lot of grown witches and wizards would not have done that.”

“But I—,”

“You were held as a prisoner in Voldemort’s headquarters, and you were tortured several times.”

“Yes.”

“You never once revealed any of the Order’s secrets.”

“Of course not.”

“So how could you _ever_ think yourself stupid? You are the smartest young lady I ever had the pleasure of teaching, and I have never been prouder of any student. Now,” she let go of Hermione and smoothed her own skirts, “is there anything else troubling you?”

Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes. 

“I miss Draco.” 

The older witch gave her a small smile. 

“Yes, I imagine you do. Terribly difficult, I’ve heard, to be separated under the circumstances.”

“They told you?”

“Oh, yes, they did, but I saw it when you had to say goodbye. It was hard to watch, and so, I imagine it was hard to live through.”

“It was. It is.”

“That is why we must persevere, Miss Granger. So we can be reunited with those that we love.”

“Are you missing someone out there, Professor?”

“Oh, yes. A niece. Two nephews. All fighting. I don’t even know if they are alive.”

“I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry.” Hermione felt guilty, knowing that she alone had been able to take precautions to keep her parents safe.

“Don’t be.” McGonagall tucked an errant curl behind Hermione’s ear and smiled, sadly. “Now, you must listen to me. You have suffered through something terrible, but you must not let it affect you now. It’s nearly the full moon, which means it’s time to end this war, once and for all. Later, after all of this is done and we are safe and free; that’s when you can deal with what has happened. For now, you have to be strong. Take your anger and your pain and put it to good use. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good. Be ready to fight.”

— — — 

McGonagall let everyone back into her office and three hours later, after poring over Draco’s notes, they parted for dinner. On the way back out of McGonagall’s office, Professor Snape escorted Hermione back to the Gryffindor common room after the other had left. His wand hand hovered tentatively by her arm, as if he expected her to collapse at any minute. She herself expected it. She watched him from the corner of her eye.

“Professor?”

“Hmm.”

“Thank you.”

“What for, Miss Granger?” He sounded bored, but he lacked his usual biting snarl.

“For teaching us Occlumency. It saved my life on several occasions out there.”

“You were a better student than he was.”

“Draco?”

“Hmm.”

“He talked about you.”

“Complaining, no doubt.”

“No, sir. He—he said you were like a father to him.” Hermione didn’t know why she was explaining such things to Snape, but she felt that it was important for him to know. 

“I cannot see why he would have thought such a thing.”

“Because,” Hermione paused as they walked past her favourite window, which overlooked the Great Lake, “he said you were the only one, aside from his mother, who truly cared about his well being. His father, well—,”

“I heard rumours when Lucius disappeared. Did he—was he there?”

“No, Professor, he died. Draco never mentioned him but the elves in the Manor told me. He was killed early on. For weakness.”

“I see.”

“Draco wanted you to know how much he appreciated your help.”

“Hmm.”

Noise came from down the passage. 

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“May I go? That is, am I allowed to join them for dinner?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for your schoolmates,” Snape paused, a small smirk playing across his features, “ _and_ adoring fans to see you safe and well.”

Hermione followed his gesturing arm towards the Great Hall and pushed open the doors. She heard him walk away. She smiled blindly at the people in front of her.

And the chatter stopped. 

Faces turned towards her. Teachers, students, ex-students, members of the Order.

Silence, as if someone had cast a _Silencio_ over the entire room. 

A girl leaned over to whisper something to her friend. 

George Weasley sank down into his seat.

Someone started clapping, and then—

There was cheering and shouting and foot-stomping. People were standing on the benches.

Everyone was applauding _for her_.

So she turned, and ran out of the hall. 

— — — 

“Hermione? Are you here?”

“We brought you some food!”

“Hello?”

“Hermione? Hey, d’you think she went to the library instead?”

“Damn, we should have thought of that first.”

Hermione lifted her head from where she was burrowed into her blanket and sniffed. 

“Here.” It came out as little more than a croak and she turned her head to face the dark window again. 

“Are you okay? We saw you run out—why are you sitting there?” Harry asked, coming to crouch next to her. She was tucked into the windowsill with her knees up to her chest and her blanket covering her body like a cocoon. 

“Sorry. I must have looked ridiculous back there.”

“Don’t be silly.” Harry placed a brotherly kiss on her forehead before settling on the rug. Ron sat down too, and held out a plate of beef Wellington and roasted potatoes.

“Come on, eat this. You’ll feel better. Ginny’s coming up with dessert in a little while.”

Hermione nodded, because she was starving. Ron set the plate down in front of him, conjuring a knife and fork to cut the Wellington into little pieces for her. The kind gesture made her throat ache. 

“What happened back there?”

“Nothing, Harry.”

“ _Something_.”

“Alright, something. It was just—just too many people. I’m not used to it anymore. I’ve been in a tent for months with a maximum of three people for company and I couldn’t handle it.”

Ron passed her the plate and she started to eat. By the time she was done with her dinner, she had explained to her best friends the basic gist of what had happened.

“…and then, they made me come back here without them. I left them behind.”

“But they did what they had to do. They knew the risks. The Order trained them for all situations,” Harry said, his brow furrowed in confusion. Hermione shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter if it was protocol or not, Harry. It’s all fine when it’s words on parchment but this was real life. Real war. They’re barely men and they’ve already survived so much. You should have seen them. Draco nearly died in front of me once. They’ve been out there, risking everything for us, without even knowing if we still trusted them.” She inhaled, shakily. “And I left them.”

“We’ll get them back soon, Hermione,” Ron said, earnestly, “you’ll see. Everyone. We’ll get _everyone_ back.”

Hermione knew he was referring to his family. A few were in the castle. The rest were fighting from the outside and, like Professor McGonagall’s family, there was no way to tell if they were alive or dead. Hermione took a deep breath to ready herself.

“I need to explain something else to you both. It’s rather important.”

Ron nodded, encouragingly.

“Go on.”

“But you have to promise not to be weird.”

“We promise,” was the easily given answer.

“No, I mean it. You can’t get angry or try to do something stupid, even though this is big news and I know how the two of you get sometimes.”

“Hermione, you’re going to have to tell us quickly, because you’re making me pretty worried. Ron’s about to blow a fuse.”

Ron nodded, simultaneously solemn and red in the face.

“Do you remember when we had to do that project the year before in History of Magic, about soul-binding magic?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. Clearly this wasn’t where he thought the conversation would go.

“What about it?”

“It—it happened.”

“Okay.”

“To me.”

“What?”

“With Draco.”

“Hermione—,” Harry started to smile, and she knew that he thought this to be a joke.

“You’re having us on,” Ron grinned, “I mean, Malfoy? That’s too good.”

“I’m not having you on, Ron. It’s Draco Malfoy. I’m dead serious.”

Hermione pushed away her plate and forced herself to look up at her friends. They were staring at her, nonplussed. Ron’s mouth hung open.

A minute went by. Hermione waved her hand in front of their faces. 

“Hello? Either of you there?”

“Hermione, what are you saying? You’re, what, Malfoy’s true love or something?” Harry asked. “This is ridiculous, you can’t be—I mean, it’s not possible, right? After everything he did to you?”

“Godric, Harry, how much clearer can I make it? Firstly, everything that happened in the past has been left there. Secondly, through a series of events, that shall remain private to myself and Draco, we realised that we were soul-bound. He and I, we’re just meant to be together. I can’t explain it properly because it’s just a part of who I am. Like destiny. Our magic connects, do you see?” She was met with the same blank looks. “We’re _soulmates_ , and I know how tacky it sounds, but it’s true. Like—,”

“Lav’s grandmother,” Ron whispered, his voice gravelly. Harry stared at him, disbelieving.

“You know about this? It’s true?”

“Yeah,” Ron rasped. His face was turning cloudy.

“Ron—,”

“Leave it, Hermione. I’m not mad.”

“Well,” Hermione mused, “that’s good, but you don’t really have the right to be mad. But I’ll take this as a win.”

“You’re serious,” Harry asked, looking suspiciously at her. “Malfoy.”

“Yep.”

“Draco Malfoy. _Seriously_.”

“Harry, I’ll hex you if you ask me again.

”

He sighed and stood up, pacing about in front of her. Ron remained pensive for a few more minutes before Hermione groaned and threw up her hands. 

“Would you two act _normal_ and just get upset, already? Yell at me. Tell me I’m daft. Go on, say something!”

More silence, and then, Ron _laughed_.

“Oh, Godric, who bloody cares?” 

“What?” Harry spun around, looking at Ron as if he was mad. Ron chuckled and shook his head. 

“If you had told me this last year, or even before we closed up the castle, I would have thought you were under an _Imperious_. But now?” His smile faded and he looked at Hermione with blistering seriousness, “You were taken hostage and we thought you died, Hermione. Our best friend, that we love more than anything. We thought you were dead and we _mourned_ you. Had a ceremony and everything. We all wore black like it was a fucking funeral. Ginny stopped laughing. Harry stopped eating. All our friends, they were like zombies without you. I had night terrors _every single night_ that you were gone.”

“Ron, I’m so sorry—,”

He lifted a hand to her arm.

“But you did come back. So,” he took a deep, steadying breath, “even if it’s Malfoy, I can live with it. Because it turns out that no one, especially us,” he gestured to Harry, who had stopped pacing, “can live without _you_.”

“He’s right. We can’t.” Harry sank down to sit in the little huddle and put an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “Never could, never will. You’re the brains of the operation.”

She leaned into him and clutched onto Ron’s hand with a vice-like grip. Tears were already spilling down her cheeks when she smiled up at her best friends.

“I love you both _so_ much,” she said, and then softly whispered, “thank you.” 

“We love you too,” Ron said, before grimacing, “even if you’re with the ferret.”

“ _Ron_.”

“What? He may be one of us now, but he’ll never live it down.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“And really,” Harry mused, “he’s not _that_ bad.”

Ron made a face.

“Let’s not push it.”

Hermione giggled and then they were all laughing, as if they were thirteen again and the war was merely a speck in the far distance. They stayed like that for a while, until Ginny knocked on the door and entered with a plate of slices of assorted tarts and cakes. 

“Hey,” Hermione said, wiping a happy tear from her eye, “will someone go get Luna for me? I need to tell her something.”

— — —

_ Eros _

Draco pushed off the covers and opened his eyes. There was pain everywhere. Sweat covered his body and he wanted to _die_.

“Mate?” Blaise appeared over him, his face unusually concerned. “You’ve got to get up. Full moon is in four days and we have to get ready to fight.”

“Can’t,” he managed to croak out, his voice sore and his brain foggy. Hermione was resisting the separation. That was the only possible reason for this.

“No, come on,” Blaise pulled him up by his arms and pushed a vial into his hands. “Drink up. We need you looking like you’re the picture of health.”

Draco obliged, gulping down a disgusting potion. He gagged and threw the vial away, hearing it thud against the dresser.

“Revolting.”

“Well, we’re trying to work miracles here.”

Adrian walked up from where he had been sitting at the desk and threw something at Draco.

“Here, this should cheer you up.”

Draco looked down at the wand in his lap and frowned.

“Is this—?”

“Yep. Hermione’s wand.”

“How did you get it?” He turned it over in his hands reverently, feeling the phantom of her magic spark currents through his fingertips as he did. 

“How do we do anything? _Money_. I bribed Theo when he was drunk last night. Told him I wanted it for,” Adrian made an apologetic face, “ _unsavoury_ reasons. Sexual things, you know?”

“He told him he wanted to—,” Blaise started to explain, making a lewd gesture with his hands. Draco held up an open palm. 

“No, no, I know. Don’t need to say it out loud, thanks. Unless you want this potion to end up all over the sheets.”

“Well, aren’t you happy?” Adrian asked, looking gleeful. “You can give it back to her!”

“ _If_ we get out of this alive.”

“You’re such a fucking spoilsport, aren’t you, Malfoy? That wand cost me quite a few Galleons!”

“Jump off a cliff.”

“Why don’t _you_?”

“Oi! Would you morons shut your mouths and listen to me?” Blaise directed his wand threateningly at Draco. “It appears that you are well enough to yell at Adrian, which means the potion is working. So up you get. Time to plan.”

Draco eased himself off the bed and realised that he _was_ feeling better, if only momentarily. Adrian nodded, rubbing his hands together wickedly. 

“Let’s put that noseless son of a bitch in the dirt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment or come say hello on [tumblr](nztina.tumblr.com)!


	13. Vigil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, my sweeties! I finally got my new laptop today and started writing this chapter as soon as it was set up. So, here are 5000+ words for you, mostly describing people crying. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience. I hated not writing for so long, but my old laptop simply refused to let me type. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's either our second- or third to last, depending on how the battle plays out. 
> 
> I appreciate all of you for reading, and if you've sent me kudos or lovely comments, I'm sending you back all of my love. 
> 
> P.S. There are probably a million spelling errors in here so I will go through tomorrow and edit as needed.

_ Psyche _

Hermione threw several stunning spells at the practice dummy and stopped when it caught on fire. Neville doused the flames and nodded at her, encouragingly.

“You’re getting better with it.”

She stared down at her wand.

“I miss my one.”

“Maybe Draco has it?” Neville offered, looking hopeful. Hermione shrugged.

“Theo Nott took it off me when I was captured. I’m not confident I’ll ever see it again.” She sank to the floor and let out a disappointed sigh. “I feel so out of shape. I haven’t used my magic properly in ages.”

Neville crouched beside her and patted her knee. “You don’t need to worry, Hermione,” he said, “because even if you’re not at the top of your game, we’re here too. We’ll protect you.”

She brushed the back of her knuckles across Neville’s cheek and smiled. It was only now, when she was back in the castle, that she truly realised the depth of her feelings for her friends. Neville had been a faithful friend through their schooling years and even more so when they were faced with imminent war. He trained the younger kids, but spent hours every week sparring with Hermione during their lockdown at the castle. He was a hard teacher and a tough sparring partner; the stress of war wearing away at his soft nature. Sometimes, though, that inner Neville-ness shone through, just like it was now.

“Thanks, Nev.”

Neville stood and held out a hand to help her up. She got to her feet and Accio’d another dummy to the centre of the training mat.

“Aren’t you going to come for dinner?”

“Maybe later.” She threw a hex and Neville turned to walk away. “Save me something if I don’t get there in time.”

“Will do!”

Hermione brushed the sweat from her forehead and continued to practice.

_ Eros _

Draco stood in the training tent, alone. It was well past midnight and he had thrown up silencing spells against the walls. He could feel sweat trickling down his back. His knee was sore from an earlier duel with Adrian and he couldn’t keep weight on it. Sinking to the mat, he held himself up with clenched fists. 

“Again.”

He looked up, snapping his head to see where the voice came from. There was no one there and after turning back to practice, he realised what it was.

_“Again.”_

_“Father, I can’t—,”_

_“Say it again, Draco, or I swear on Salazar’s grave that you will regret disobeying me.”_

_“M-mudblood.”_

_“Again. Without stuttering, this time.”_

_“Mudblood.”_

_“And do we associate with mudbloods, Draco?”_

_Draco faltered, hesitating, and was rewarded with his father’s cane thwacking his kneecap. He stumbled, gritting his teeth. This was no way to spend a birthday, but here he was: barely twelve years old and already being dealt corporal punishment because he dared to mentioned Hermione Granger’s name at breakfast._

_“No.”_

_“And will you let her best you this year?”_

_“No, sir.”_

_“And when it comes time for our people to have our time of glory, what will become of the mudbloods? What will they be, Draco?”_

_Draco swallowed, clenching his hands until he could feel his nails cutting through skin._

_“Dead.”_

He pushed himself up. His father was dead now. His mother was…somewhere. Maybe.

For Hermione, he got up.

_ Psyche _

Hermione stayed past midnight in the training room, and while she was inspecting her arm for bruising, she heard the door open.

“Are you still here? You need to sleep.”

“Go to bed, Ginny. I’ll be up soon.”

“You said that to Neville, Ron and Harry.”

“And I will.” Ginny came closer and Hermione realised that she was wearing workout clothing, her hair tied up. The younger girl pulled her wand from her thigh holster and went to stand across from her. Hermione watched, curious.

“Well, we both know that’s a lie, so I’m here to exhaust you. I’m gonna make you go to sleep.”

Hermione smiled, tauntingly.

“Bring it on, Weasley.”

It took them an hour but Hermione finally yielded, accepting the fact that she needed to rest. The girls lay flat on their backs on the training floor, their breathing loud and erratic. Ginny was the first to get up, her face redder than her hair.

“Come on. Let’s go. You’re a lucky bitch because you’re still supposed to be on bed-rest, but I have to be up in five hours to do patrols. Shift it.”

Hermione nodded, obligingly. Her mind had finally caught up with her body and she was tired.

“Okay. Lead the way.”

As they made their way towards the Gryffindor tower, Ginny trailed her fingers along the edges of frames. Hermione felt her slow in pace and fell back to keep in step with her. They walked in silence, until Ginny finally came to a stop.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione frowned.

“About what?”

“About this whole situation. We failed you.”

“Gin, I helped write the rules, remember? What happens when someone is captured from outside the castle? We assume they are dead and carry on.”

“But that was just parchment. This was you. Flesh and bones Hermione Granger. We left you for dead.”

“What would you have done? Risked an agent to find me? What if I had been _Imperiused_? Or maybe tortured to insanity like Frank and Alice Longbottom?” She ignored Ginny’s wince. “What if I had been dead for months before you got someone to come looking?”

“But we could have tried.”

“No, Ginny,” Hermione said, coming up to place a comforting hand against Ginny’s shoulder. “You did the right thing. I was safe, so it doesn’t matter wondering what could have happened. No need to wonder. I’m right here.”

Ginny’s face crumpled and she slid down the wall, sobbing into her hands. Hermione crouched by her.

“What is it?”

“Gods, Hermione,” Ginny blubbered, “I just really missed you.”

Hermione pulled the girl, the closest thing she had to a sister, into a hug. It occurred to her then that her absence had not only left a hole in the lives of her two best friends, but in all of the other people that formed her eccentric, magical family.

“I missed you, too.”

“Sorry, I’m being such an idiot,” Ginny said, wiping her nose with her sleeve. Hermione patted her head, soothing her as best she could. By the tension she could feel in her friend’s shoulders, there was something else that the girl needed to get off her chest. She pulled back.

“What is it? What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, as gently as she could.

“Nothing.”

“Gin, come on. No secrets, remember?”

Ginny sighed and sat up, looking straight ahead at the opposite wall.

“When you were gone, we were in a sort of limbo state. We already didn’t have the snitch and then you were missing. Everything paused. Everyone was reevaluating and McGonagall and the rest of the Order were at a standstill. And then,” a fresh wave of tears sheeted down Ginny’s cheeks and she paused to brush them away, “you came back and everything started up again. Planning for the war to end.”

“But?”

“But Harry keeps disappearing into McGonagall’s office for hours every day. He won’t tell me why. I don’t even know why we needed the silly snitch but it seems like there’s a secret that he can’t tell and I’m worried about him.”

Hermione frowned. In truth, she also didn’t know the importance of the snitch. It had always been an intangible object; something they needed but didn’t have. Throughout the past year, her focus had been the younger students. There had been no need for her to get involved with planning because the snitch had been lost with Draco. It was a pointless exercise and she never gave it a moment’s thought. Until now.

“He’ll be okay, Ginny,” she said, not knowing if it was a lie. “We’ve come this far and he’s strong.”

“What if he dies?”

“What if you die? What if I die?” Hermione squeezed Ginny’s hand. “There are plenty of ‘ _what ifs’_ and only one outcome. We won’t know until it happens, so until then, don’t worry too much. We have two days left. Spend time with him and don’t focus on what comes after it.”

Ginny sniffed, nodding. Her face was blotchy in the faint light of the dying lamp on the wall and Hermione reached out to brush some matted hair away from her friend’s cheek. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Loving someone hurts, doesn’t it?”

“It always hurts when you have something to lose.”

_ Eros _

“He’s here,” Blaise announced, walking into Draco’s tent. One day until the full moon and everything was on schedule. The plans meticulously detailed in safe houses months prior were coming back to life, and he tried to remember all of his Order training. All of the scenarios, all of the manoeuvres. All of the Death Eater weak spots.

“Eager to get back this month, eh?” Adrian asked, from where he was seated in Hermione’s favourite armchair. Draco had half a mind to tell his friend to go and sit somewhere else but he remembered that this was not his true room and the chair was not Hermione’s anything. This was a prison cell and he would buy her all the chairs she wanted in a house that was far away from this mess. His mind wandered over to Voldemort and the familiar chill of dread ran down his spine when he realised how dangerous it was to be in the same camp as the lunatic now that Hermione was gone. How would he explain her absence? His Occlumency skills were weak now that he was suffering from the illness of being separated from Hermione and he couldn’t bear the thought of accidentally revealing his hand to Voldemort before it was time for the Order to attack.

“Wanted to be back in time for the party tonight. Bellatrix arrived with him.”

Draco’s eyes flitted up in surprise and he almost dropped his quill.

“Party—,”

“The party your aunt is throwing to celebrate some slaughter she commanded in the States. Dunno,” Blaise shrugged, “but it’s big. I had to get about fifty barrels of wine from Italy.”

“I forgot.” He had, and now his aunt was here, too.

“Well, you’ve had a lot on your mind.”

“No, I mean, this is bad. So fucking bad.” He started wringing his hands. “He won’t suspect either of you, but she’s a psychopath and she’s more unhinged than ever.”

“I know.”

“What do we do?”

“I avoid them at all costs. It’s only one day before the attack. It’ll be fine.” He could barely disguise the uncertainty in his voice.

Adrian stood from the chair and pulled his wand from his pocket, twirling it around his fingers as he started to pace around the room.

“Okay. Here’s a better idea. If the three of us are acting weird and antsy all night and you keep avoiding her, she’ll see straight through the bullshit and figure it all out.”

Draco considered this and tipped his head in acknowledgment.

“Fair point.”

Adrian's devilish smile widened and he paused in his steps, turning around to face his friends.

“So we do the opposite. Get it? Act drunk.” He flung a hand to the door, gesturing to the camp. “Hang out with those dicks outside. Leer at the sex slaves, and kiss them and pinch their arses and all that. Act like proper Death Eaters, you know?”

Blaise was frowning and Draco found himself mirroring the action. Adrian rolled his eyes.

“They want to see that we’re faithful little soldiers, right? They’re throwing this party to celebrate murdering a bunch of innocents and I can guarantee you that not one person attending, aside from the three of us, will feel any sort of remorse or guilt about it. If we’re sitting in the corner, twiddling our thumbs, she’s going to come straight up to you and try to figure out what’s wrong. Don’t give her the opportunity. Let’s be the biggest arseholes they’ve ever seen and make them proud.”

Draco’s mind ran over Adrian’s plan for a few minutes before he realised the brilliance of it. Bellatrix hadn’t seen him in months. She barely knew him before the war, aside from the Occlumency lessons, and it would work to their advantage. She had no idea if Draco was a moral man or just a piece of shit and he was hoping she would be convinced of the latter by the end of the night.

“Let’s do it.”

_ Psyche _

One day to go, and Hermione was helping her friends fortify the dungeons. Several of the younger students were helping Professor Trelawney stock the room with clean water and food supplies. She never thought the day would come that the Slytherin common room would be the shelter where younger students would hide to prevent being found by Death Eaters, but here she was, making sure it would be impenetrable tomorrow.

“It’s looking good, dear, but come up for lunch soon.” McGonagall said, patting her shoulder as she walked past with Fred and Seamus. Luna stopped casting wards from her side of the room and walked over to where Hermione was standing, her usually serene face cloudy with sadness.

“Hermione?”

“Mm, yes? What is it?”

“It’s about what you told me before.”

Hermione lowered her wand, attention fully focused on the younger girl. She noticed dark circles under her friend’s eyes and nodded, motioning for Luna to follow her into the dormitories. She wandered through to a room and sat down on a bed, trying not to roll her eyes at the overwhelming green-ness of the decor.

“Go ahead, Luna.”

Luna sat on the opposite bed and her whole body seemed to droop. She was chewing on her bottom lip nervously. 

“You said that Blaise still loves me.”

“I did.”

“But did he mean it?”

Hermione frowned. She didn’t know this version of Luna; this unsure, uncertain girl who seemed to have no magic left in her body.

“He did. _Of course_ he did.”

Luna looked at her like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “You see, Hermione, he was very sure that he wasn’t in love with me when he left school.”

“I promise you that it wasn’t his intention to hurt you, Luna. It was to protect you.”

A high-pitched, unfriendly laugh tumbled from Luna’s rosebud mouth and Hermione winced.

“He was _protecting_ me?”

“Yes.”

“Did he _protect_ me when I was kidnapped by Death Eaters?”

“Luna—,”

“Did he _protect_ me when I was thrown into the Malfoy dungeon and starved for days?”

“Luna, please,” Hermione stood, walking to sit beside her friend, “he couldn’t have stopped that. It killed him to know what happened to you back then, he told me.”

“What else did he say?” Luna’s voice had a hard edge to it now, and Hermione realised that it was an unfamiliar tone coming from the girl.

“He said that he fell in love with you after being your friend. And he told me all about the plans you had for your future together.”

“A future he was happy to leave.”

“No, Luna,” Hermione shook her head, “I swear to you that it wasn’t real. He wanted you to be safe and this was the only thing he could do.”

“Why couldn’t he have told me?” The hard edge was fading to sadness. “Why didn’t he trust me with everything?”

“He did trust you, Luna, it wasn’t about that at all—,” Hermione hesitated, not wanting to overstep. Draco had told her what Blaise had said to him, and after a moment of debating herself, she decided that it was too risky not to let Luna know before the battle tomorrow. She couldn’t let her friend go into the fight without the knowledge that Blaise loved her. “In fact, Blaise said that he broke it off with you because he didn’t want you to mourn him if he died.”

“What?”

“Draco told me that Blaise said he didn’t want you to love a dead man.”

Luna’s resolve crumbled and she shut her eyes, tears still managing to crawl down her cheeks. She blindly reached out a hand, grasping onto the bedspread beneath her in a white-knuckled hold.

“That _idiot_.”

Hermione felt relieved to hear the slight touch of happy disbelief in Luna’s voice. She watched her friend compose herself, wiping away the wetness on her face and blinking away her blurry gaze.

“He wears your bracelet.”

Luna frowned, and then she smiled; the first smile Hermione had seen on her face in many months.

“I knew I had misplaced it! I can’t believe it was him.”

“I want you to know that he’s sorry, Luna. I promised him I would tell you how much he loved you and I don’t want you to think for a second that he stopped.” She owed it to Blaise. To Luna. 

“How was he?”

“What?”

“How did he look? Was he too thin? Or injured?”

“No, he was okay. A few scars here and there but he’s good with healing spells and he actually saved my life once.”

“Really?”

“Really. I had been attacked by some thugs and Draco found me, but Blaise is the one who stopped me from—well, I don’t know, really. All I know is that I am completely in his debt.”

Luna sat back as Hermione stood. She walked to the bed she had been sitting on, collecting her wand from the mattress, when Luna laughed.

“What?”

Her friend smirked, looking somewhat like her old self. “Isn’t it funny? So many rooms we could have come to and we chose to sit on our boyfriends’ beds.”

Hermione spun back to the bed, hand automatically reaching for the bedside table. She yanked the draw open and knelt down, rummaging inside. A thin journal. Letters addressed to Draco L. Malfoy. A bottle of cologne. It was a sparse collection of items but she felt her eyes prick with tears, knowing that these were objects he once used; once held. She removed them from the drawer, collecting them into her arms.

“You really love him, don’t you.” Not a question. Hermione dipped her head, trying not to drop the letter perched precariously on top of the pile of things she was stealing from Draco’s drawer. She didn’t think he would mind.

_ Eros _

Draco sat at the bonfire, watching Adrian chatting with other men across from him, one slave sitting on each knee. By this point, Voldemort had already retired to his quarters with the command for his soldiers to keep celebrating until dawn. Bellatrix, however, was still present, sitting alongside several high commanders within the ranks. Draco occasionally felt her eyes on him.

Blaise was singing with Theo by the tables of food set out by the elves, pretending to be drunk. He waved at Draco.

“S-some company, s-sir?”

Draco looked up to see a thin girl he didn’t recognise standing beside him, her arms wrapped around her middle like they could protect her. Her gaze was cast down to her bare feet. He reflexively shook his head before catching Adrian’s warning expression, changing his refusal into a disinterested nod. Instead of answering, he yanked on the girl’s elbow and she stumbled into his lap. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tightly to his body. They sat there for a few moments and he felt sickened by the simple act of holding a strange woman. Even more so by the fact that, judging by her heartbeat, she was terrified out of her wits.

“Sweetie,” came a harsh, grating voice and he looked up to see his aunt standing there, one hand clutching a half-empty glass of Firewhisky. It was from Voldemort’s personal stash, but Draco was pretty sure Bellatrix was the only person who drank it.

“Aunt Bella.”

She moved to sit beside him, drawing her spindly hand through her knotted curls. Poking a sharp nail into the flesh of the slave girl’s bare thigh, dragging it up and down her pale flesh.

“How are you?”

“Lovely, darling. So formal, aren’t you?” She smiled, baring her teeth. Draco smelt the alcohol on her breath and hoped to Godric that she was drunk.

“Sorry. Just—,”

“Who is this pretty little scrap, hmm?” she interrupted. Draco felt the girl tense in his arms.

“Just a slave.”

“For naughty things, of course.”

“Yes, you could say that.”

“But, Draco,” Bellatrix pouted, and Draco realised his mistake, “what about _your_ Mudblood?”

And just like that, his blood ran cold.

“Mudblo—,”

“That little bitch with my lovely artwork on her arm.”

“Oh, _her_.” He shrugged, nonchalant. “Well, that slut is dead now.”

“Really?” He tried to ignore the surprise in his aunt’s voice and instead, focused on his Occlumency. _Succeed or die._

“She insulted me so I killed her.”

“What a pity. I was so looking forward to saying hello. Give her a matching signature on her other arm.”

“Maybe we can find you someone else, Aunt Bella. That pathetic little Mudblood slave got what she deserved.”

Bella was off her game, because she simply swigged back the remnants of her drink and giggled.

“I hope she had a nice death, sweetie.”

“Oh, yes,” Draco said, trying to use his imagination. What would Hermione say in his position? “I, uh, let my friends have her for their fun, and then I tortured her for a few hours before letting her bleed out.”

Bella pouted, mockingly, eyes glinting in the firelight.

“Poor _darling_.”

“She begged _so_ pitifully,” Draco elaborated, his stomach churning with nausea, “that I almost let her die quickly, but then I remembered what you and Father taught me.”

“And?”

Draco grinned, menacingly. 

“And I _destroyed_ her.”

“Good boy.” The pride in her voice made him want to throw up. He felt her lean in and she pressed cold, clammy lips to his cheek with a resounding smack. The girl on his lap squirmed.

“Thank you, Aunt Bella.”

“For what?”

“For teaching me. I wouldn’t be who I am today without your influence.” It was the truth.

His aunt laughed again, ruffling her fingers through his hair like she used to when he was a little boy.

“Oh, darling, it was my absolute pleasure.”

Adrian’s father called for her over the fire and she got up, swaying as she did. Blowing a kiss at her nephew, she dragged a nail across the slave girl’s cheek.

“Have fun, sweetie.”

— — —

Back in his tent, he sighed. Success. He walked to the closet and pulled out one of Hermione’s sweaters, throwing it to the girl.

“Put that on.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. “Sir?”

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay? You can put that on, and then you should eat some of the fruit on that desk over there.”

“I don’t,” her gaze flickered between him and the bed, confusion painted across her face, “I don’t understand—,”

“Listen, that was all talk, back there. It wasn’t real. You’re safe.”

She stood, stock-still, so Draco reached for a pear and handed it to her. She stared at it for a long moment before cautiously taking a bite. Draco smiled, remembering that Hermione refused to eat the fruit he gave her without him testing it first. By the time she had finished, he was already pushing a nectarine into her hands and she polished that off, too.

“What’s your name?”

She wiped the juice from her chin.

“Catherine.”

“What are you? Half-blood?”

“M-mudblood, sir.”

He smiled, sadly.

“My girlfriend’s a Muggle-born,” he said, adding, “also, please don’t call me sir. My name is Draco.”

The girl, Catherine, resumed staring at him with her mouth hanging open. He finally persuaded her to take a bath. When she came out with wet hair and colour returning to her cheeks, he was tugging on a sweatshirt. She stood by the desk.

“You can sleep. If you don’t mind, I’ll sleep on the other side of the bed but I won’t touch you, I promise.”

She moved to the bed and started to sit, but Draco moved quickly, a hand held out.

“No!” He regretted it when she shrank back, lowering his voice. “Please, don’t sleep on that side. It was my—,”

She nodded, quickly, moving around the bed. Draco sat, watching her mirror him and then he conjured several extra pillows to put between them. He decided that it would be prudent to leave a small light on in the corner so Catherine wasn’t in the dark. They lay on the bed, and he waited for her breathing to even out.

“Um, Draco?”

“Hmm?”

“What was your girlfriend’s name?”

“Oh,” he debated it but decided there was no harm in telling her. “Hermione.”

There was a sharp gasp and he saw her sit up.

“Hermione _Granger_?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s your _girlfriend_?”

“Mmhmm.”

“But she’s—,”

“The most famous Muggle-born in the world?”

“Yes.” Catherine’s voice was incredulous. “I didn’t know. I lived in Scotland with my grandparents but we still got the Daily Prophet sent to us.”

“You read about her?”

“She was like a _hero_ for Muggle-borns everywhere.”

He didn’t bother hiding a grin, knowing that Hermione would detest hearing herself called a hero.

“Oh, really?”

“How did you meet?”

“School. We were in school together.”

“And she was here? How did you—wait, was she the girl that your aunt was talking about?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Draco bolted upright, aware of the implication.

“Don’t believe what I said. I got her out. She was captured and given to me like—,”

“Like me,” Catherine shrugged, unfazed by her circumstance.

“Yes, and I got her out safely.”

“Wow.”

Draco decided that he could do more than the original plan.

“Catherine, I need you to do something for me.”

“Yes?” She settled back to her pillow and Draco did the same.“In the morning, I need you to tell all of your friends that something is going to happen.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Sometime tomorrow in the afternoon, or maybe the evening.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t really know the logistics of it, but the barricades around the castle are going to open so that the people inside can attack the camp.”

He saw her hand reach to yank the pillow away from between their faces and her eyes bore into him, gleaming.

“You’re part of the Order, aren’t you?” Her voice was so excited that it made Draco’s chest ache.

“Sort of.”

“You’re going to save us.”

“I—,” he faltered. He didn’t want to give her false hope but he couldn’t let her spend another night suffering the unknown. “Yes. If you’re smart and you hide from the Death Eaters when you need to.”

“Okay.”

Thinking quickly, he came up with a side plan. Something for the girls who weren’t as lucky as Hermione. “Try to get all of your friends to this tent, okay? I’ll leave it open for you. You’ll be safe in here because they know I’m with them. Stay in here until I come to get you.”

“I will.”

“Now, you should sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

There was a silence, and then,

“Thank you, Draco.”

He muttered a soft goodnight before burying his head in his pillow. Tomorrow, the war would end, Hermione would be back in his arms and they could go home.

_ Psyche _

Hermione sat alone, staring blankly out of the window. It was midnight and she was wide awake. It was a funny, bittersweet aftereffect of having stayed up so late every night with Draco in their tent, talking and kissing and doing other things well into the early hours of the next morning. Something like jet lag for her heart.

The letters and notebook she found earlier were lying around her. She hadn’t opened the notebook, since she thought it would be better to leave it for him when he returned, but did read the letters. They were mostly from his mother and she felt strangely like she had come to know the woman a little better from reading them. Now, there was nothing to do but wait. Her sweatshirt was doused in Draco’s cologne, it was the same one he still used and she was grateful to have his scent so close to her. It was a small comfort.

She brushed her fingers across the raised skin of her inner left arm, the words conjuring themselves in her mind. Mudblood. It was something she both despised and loved about her body. Hatred for the word and the sentiment, for everything she fought against. Pride in her strength and courage against people who would try to hurt hurt. Worry in thinking that the scar was only a small taste of what might come the next day.

Today, Harry had confided to her and Ron that he planned to seek Voldemort out alone. Both of them had protested fiercely but their best friend was a stubborn man and at the end of the day, he was right. It was not Hermione’s battle, nor Ron’s, to kill Voldemort. She could take down Death Eaters and save the girls in the camp and she would keep fighting for the light, but killing Voldemort was Harry’s fight. She had to stand by and let him go. Ron, for whatever reason, had been the rational one of the two of them while Hermione sobbed. He was the one who reasoned with her, while Harry sat dejectedly and watched. In the end, they decided to keep it between the three of them. Hermione felt guilty to lie to Ginny but it was Harry’s secret and so she kept quiet.

Hermione didn’t know how long she spent with her two best friends, but it was when Harry had to go and meet with McGonagall that He was sleeping in Ginny’s bed tonight, and Lavender was with Ron. Hermione didn’t want to disturb anyone so she made up her mind to sleep on one of the couches in the library and that was where she was now. With all of the sadness in her heart, one spark of hope shone through.

Just one more sleep before she saw Draco again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Leave me a comment x


	14. Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I put off writing this chapter? Yes. 
> 
> Here are my reasons:
> 
> 1\. I suck at writing fight scenes. Especially magical ones. 
> 
> 2\. My job is crazy at the moment.
> 
> 3\. (and this is the main reason) I don't want to say goodbye to this story. 
> 
> So here is the second-to-last chapter. It's messy and there's probably a million errors, but it's up. Enjoy x

By mid-morning, Draco watched Blaise paced in front of him, wand twirling in his hand. 

“Sit down, would you?” 

“Can’t,” Blaise bit out. They had woken to find Theo leaving for a meeting in London, unable to give a good enough reason to stay at the camp. Draco rubbed his eyes. It was an exhausting thing to keep alert when his body was screaming at him to lie down and rest. 

“He’ll be back soon. Before lunchtime, he said.”

“But what if they attack before then?”

“We’re trained, Blaise.” Draco stood, walking across the room. “Adrian is trained. In any situation, he can handle himself.”

Blaise shook his head and finally collapsed to Hermione’s chair.

“It’s better when it’s the three of us.”

“I know, mate.” Draco pulled his Death Eater mask from his closet, running a hand over the grooves and indentations while dull nausea settled into his stomach. “I know.”

“Feels weird to put it on for this, right?”

Draco shrugged. 

“It’ll be the last time, either way.”

“Don’t say that, mate.”

“We have to be pragmatic about this. It’s war.”

“We’ve been in the war for a while now.”

“But this is the biggest battle we’ll fight. This is the one where they find out where our loyalties lie.”

Blaise walked over to Draco and tugged the mask from his hands. He waved it around before tossing it to the floor. It thudded against the carpet. 

“We’re getting out. Forget about everything else. Forget about this place. We owe nothing to the people who raised us. Adrian never has to look at his dad again. You never have to see your fucked up aunt again. We get out today and it’s over.”

“That simple, yeah?”

“Yeah, mate.” Blaise looked so earnest that Draco nearly believed him. “Yeah, it is that simple. I’ll find Luna. You find Hermione. We’ll have dinner tonight in the Great Hall and celebrate his defeat. Then we leave this all behind and go to the countryside. None of this city nonsense. Proper countryside.”

“Couple of farms, side by side?”

“Chickens and cows too. Luna would insist. Although I’d be rooting for a vineyard instead.”

Draco smiled at his friend, unsure if they were still joking. A farm in the country with Hermione sounded like heaven on earth at that moment. Somewhere far away from this mess.

“Let’s hope we make it to dinner, then.”

— — —

There was a knock on the door and Hermione looked up to see Ginny walking into the room. Lavender stood up straight from where she was lacing her boots.

“All ready?”

“Ready.”

Ginny tossed them tiny golden vials. 

“Lucky that made us start brewing it ages ago, Hermione. It’s going to come in handy now.”

“How much do we have?”

“Enough for everyone fighting.”

Hermione pocketed the Felix Felicis and pulled on a jacket. They made their way out of the bedroom and Hermione silently said goodbye to it, just in case she never saw it again.

“Are the kids in the dungeon already?” she asked. 

“Not all,” Ginny started, as Ron joined them from the boys’ dorms. “Some of them are still heading down now with Luna.”

“It’s cutting it short. We need to make sure the protective charms on them are fine.”

“Don’t worry,” Ron said, slinging an arm around Lavender’s waist as they made their way down to the Great Hall. “Nev’s on it.”

Hermione watched Harry look up at them from where he stood with Headmistress McGonagall. Something inside of her tugged painfully and she forced herself not to crumble right there and then. 

“Hermione?” Lavender’s voice floated towards her. 

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay? You look really pale.”

“Oh,” Ron interrupted, “no, love, she’s just a bit nervous, right?” He gave her a look that meant ‘ _keep it together_ ’ and she forced herself to smile at Lavender. 

“He’s right. Just nervous.”

“To see _Draco_?” the girl cooed, jokingly batting her eyelashes.. Ron rolled his eyes.

“Look, just because I’m okay with this doesn’t mean we have to keep talking about him.”

“Hey, guys,” Harry said, reaching them halfway up the hall. “Everyone good to go?”

“Yes!” Hermione replied, much too brightly. She wiped the fake smile off her face and tried to channel her younger, calmer self. “Everything ready down here?”

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair and nodded. 

“Pretty much. Feels weird, doesn’t it? All this commotion, like we’re getting ready to go on holiday or something.”

“Yeah, mate,” Ron said, and Hermione heard the strain in his voice. “You all good?”

“Aberforth’s confirmed that several of our teams on the outside are stationed and waiting to attack when we give word. He needs an Order of Merlin when this is done, honestly. The amount of times he’s risked his life for us—,”

“What about my parents? Are they with them?”

“With Bill and Fleur’s team. Sorry mate. I don’t think they’d have sat this one out.”

It was Ron’s turn to go pale. Hermione felt terrible for him. His parents, alongside many of their old schoolmates and friends, were coming to fight in a war that should have ended two decades ago. Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder and she spun.

“Hey, Fred.”

“Alright?”

She nodded. Fred turned to talk to Ron for a minute before walking down to where Snape was telling off Seamus at the teacher’s table. 

“Hey, do you guys want to—,” Harry nodded towards an empty corner and Ron nodded. Hermione felt tears in her eyes. “Just a quick minute.”

“Yes, of course. Lavender, Ginny,” she smiled at her friends, “can you please go and help Neville with the wards in the dungeon?”

She followed Harry and Ron out to the empty passageway. Harry turned to them, his face a storm of anxiety.

“We’ve been over this so I’m not going to start again, but I don’t know how much time I’ll have, or if we’ll see each other before I—,”

“We know, mate,” Ron said, looking resigned. “We know.”

Harry blinked furiously, his eyes shiny.

“I just want to tell you both how much I love you.”

“Harry—,” Ron’s voice was pained.

“We love you too.” Hermione blurted, tears starting to fall. “Harry, please, I’m begging you, you don’t have to—,

“Come on, ‘Mione, we can’t,” Ron reminded her, gently. He placed a comforting hand on her back. “We can’t stop him. We can’t.”

“I know,” she mumbled, clutching at Harry’s jacket. “But I wish we could go with you.”

Harry smiled, brushing away her tears. 

“You’ll be with me.” He pressed a hand to his heart. “Here.”

It only made Hermione cry harder and Ron started going red from trying not to follow her example. Harry continued, 

“I wanted to thank you both for all that you’ve done for me since we were kids. I—well, I don’t think I’d have made it this far without you.”

“Without _Hermione_ ,” Ron nudged her, smiling. “Let’s be honest, I’m just here for my good looks.”

“I never had much of a family,” Harry continued, “but you have been my brother and sister since the very beginning, you know? So when this ends, no matter what happens to me, I am honoured to have fought alongside you. And if this is it for me,” he broke off, looking down, “then I’m okay with it. I had seven of the best years of my life with you.”

Hermione stepped up to Harry, winding her arms around his waist in a tight grip. She couldn’t bear to speak anymore, to futilely ask him to stay so they could fix it together. 

She couldn’t fix this.

As much as she wanted to tell Harry that he wouldn’t die, she didn’t know if it was true. The very thought of it made her feel sick and she buried her face into his chest. Ron wrapped them both up in his arms, and they stood there like a strange, human pillar for a few moments until a group of sixth-years walked by. 

“Right,” Hermione said, drying her face, “time to go out there and face it.”

“Have you had your potions?” Ron asked. Hermione nodded, indicating to the beaded pouch that she had altered to fit onto her belt. 

“Madame Pomfrey gave me extra vials if I feel weak during—well, whatever’s out there.”

“You sure you’re feeling up to this, Hermione?” Harry looked at her with the same worried eyes as everyone else who knew of the situation. “What if you stayed with the kids in the dungeon?”

“Seriously?! Harry, I swear to Godric,” Hermione lifted her hands to her waist, noticing Ron backing away in her peripheral vision, “for the last _bloody_ time, I am not hiding! Stop trying to make me bow out! It’s _my_ war,” she yanked up her sleeve to bare the _Mudblood_ scar, “and I won’t let other people fight it for me while I sit in the dungeons and twiddle my thumbs. I won’t hear one more word on this, or I swear, Voldemort will have to get in line.”

Harry nodded, still looking uncertain. 

“I’m sorry. You’re right, it’s not my place—,”

“And she’s got us, don’t you?” Ron called, from where he plastered against the wall. “We’ve got your back.”

“And I’ve got yours. Both of you.” She pointed her wand at her friends. “Now, let’s go and end this.”

— — — 

“—is everyone clear?” Neville stood on the Gryffindor table, his boots clunking loudly as he paced up and down. All students, teachers and Order members who gathered in the Great Hall looked up at him, nodding. Hermione was suddenly struck at the difference between the young, sweet boy she had met in her first year and the man who stood above the crowd now. A chill ran through her body, knowing what he suffered to get to this place, knowing that his parents were on his mind at this very moment.

“Nev!” Seamus shouted, “remember the teams!”

“Right, thanks, Seamus.” Neville waved his wand and banners fell from the ceiling, unfurling to reveal their colours. “You’ve all got your colours. You stay with your team and look out for each other. You’re accountable for the people in your team. Remember that. We’re only strong if we stick together.” He stopped pacing and dropped down to the bench below. “Professor Snape is going to go over some last minute stuff for students; just a recap of everything we’ve been teaching you for the past few months. Professor?”

“Thank you, Longbottom.” Snape ascended to the table with a flourish of his cape and glared at his students. “Now, pay _attention_ …”

— — — 

Headmistress McGonagall’s voice boomed through the corridors through a powerful Sonorus charm and Hermione steeled herself with her wand pointed up at the wall. If they timed it correctly, everyone would bring down a section of the protective barrier simultaneously, which would trigger the alarms in the Death Eater camp and start this final battle. 

“ _SIX_!”

Ginny closed her eyes for a brief moment and pictured her family sitting at the kitchen table. She remembered the first time she kissed Harry, and the first time she held her wand, and glanced down to see her friends standing beside her.

“ _FIVE_!”

Neville placed his hand up against the wall, feeling the magic pulse from the stone through to his palm. He felt the spirits of his parents standing just behind him, encouraging him to be strong and fight for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves. 

“ _FOUR_!”

Ron looked at Lavender from where she was positioned further down the passage and raised a hand as if to reach out and touch her. He thought of his family, and of Harry and Hermione. He smiled at the memory of the three of them running down to Hagrid’s hut to interrogate him in their first year. He lifted his wand.

“ _THREE_!”

Luna felt the buzz of nervous energy cascade through her fingertips and she imagined her mother standing by her side as she readied herself to fight. She thought of Blaise’s fingertips running down her spine as he told her he loved her and prayed to the Gods that she would see him again, even if only to slap him across the face. 

“ _TWO_!”

Hermione thought of her mother’s smiling face and her father’s steady guidance, of Harry’s bravery and Ron’s kindheartedness. She remembered the day she received her letter to attend Hogwarts. She remembered the last moment she spent with Draco in their tent.

“ _ONE_!”

Harry put away all of his memories and adjusted his spectacles. 

“ _NOW_!”

— — — 

Draco felt magic pulse through the air and knew that it was happening. He glanced at Blaise, who was donning his mask, and followed suit. 

“Ready to jump ship?” Blaise asked, his voice muffled.

“Ready.”

“Remember, no matter what, get to the castle.”

“See you there.”

Draco reached out to shake his friend’s hand.

“See you on the other side.”

They stepped out of the tent and into chaos.

— — — 

Hermione ran into the courtyard, watching as three masked Death Eaters approached, firing as many consecutive stunning spells at them as possible. Ginny ran alongside her, deflecting curses as she did. 

“Flank them, Herms!”

Oh, my God, Ginny, you _have_ to stop calling me th— _INCARCEROUS_!” Hermione watched a man fall to the ground as roped bound him. Ginny laughed and tossed several hexes at the two remaining men, as Hermione sent stunning spells to confuse them. They easily took them down with Ron coming up behind them, limb-locking one of the thugs as Ginny bound the other with rope. Hermione let her otter Patronus fly from her wand to alert the other teams that the attack had started. 

“Ready for the rest of them?” Ginny asked. 

Hermione nodded. She watched her fellow students and Order members file into the courtyard, alert and prepared to fight.

“Everyone ready?” she shouted, and was met with a raucous cheer of fervent yeses. Snape walked up beside her. 

“Succeed or die, Miss Granger..”

“Succeed or die.”

“Get to him as quickly as possible. I don’t have to tell you how important it is.”

Hermione looked towards the entrance way and nodded. 

“Yes, sir.”

She started to run. 

— — —

Draco ran through the woods, weaving in-between the trees. Blaise was just a few metres in front of him and he struggled to keep up, his body fighting against the strengthening potions. His fingers were burning with anticipation and pent-up magic. They had not met with any resistance from the castle as yet and he was determined to reach Hermione in time.

“Blaise!” 

“What?”

“If something happens,” he wheezed, trying not to slow down, “find her and tell her I love her!”

“Stop being a dick and hurry up!”

— — —

Ron threw a shield up to protect Lavender as Fenrir Greyback advanced towards her from her blindspot. She nodded her thanks before sprinting off towards the staircase, tossing curses from her wand like they were confetti. Ron fell back alongside George and Seamus, sending _Sectumsempras_ through the air and watching them hit their targets with grim satisfaction.

A stray hex caught his foot and he swore, falling to a protective crouch as his brother stepped in front of him. 

“You alright there?”

“Fucking bastard got my ankle!”

“Fix it, quick—,” Seamus threw a _Crucio_ at Antonin Dolohov, who neatly stepped to the side and out of its way, “—and we’ll distract them long enough for you to get out of here!”

— — — 

Luna pushed a fifth-year out of the way of a particularly nasty curse that was flung her way, stepping in front of the girl. She cut her wand through the air, watching a gash appear across the chest of the Death Eater coming towards them. He stopped, looking down as his wand faltered. 

When he fell forward, mask clattering noisily, Luna looked back at the girl, wiping ash from her face. 

“When you are faced with a situation like that,” she gestured to the man lying dead on the stone floor, “you need to remember that if he lives, you die. Understood?”

The girl nodded, meekly.

“Yes, Luna.”

“Don’t _ever_ hesitate. It may cost you your life if you do it again.” The older girl tilted her chin up, a small smile playing at the edge of her mouth. She looked down the corridor. “Now, go and find your team. And don’t lose them!”

— — — 

“Bill! It’s Bill!” someone shouted, and Hermione turned to see Bill and Fleur running towards them with their wands out, sending Death Eaters flying as they did. Remus and Tonk were right behind them, Tonks’ hair a bright daffodil yellow for the occasion.

“Mum and Dad,” Ginny yelled, “are they with you?”

Remus shook his head. 

“They’ve gone through the Hog’s Head!”

“ _Alone_?!”

“It’s alright, Charlie’s with them!” He reached out to grab Tonks’ hand.

“We’re going inside!” she yelled at the group. “Watch yourselves, alright! And don’t be afraid to use Unforgivables!”

“Be safe!” Ginny shouted. 

“Eez everyone alright? No injuries so far?” Fleur’s voice called out. “Anyone needs dittany? We ‘ave plenty ‘ere,” she patted her satchel as Bill threw a _Protego_ over her, letting the debris from a falling pillar tumble away from her face. She looked unfazed by the chaos around her, in true Veela style. “Oh, merci, mon cœur. We brew it for months, yes?” 

Ginny disarmed and rendered unconscious the last man standing against them, reaching up for his wand as it sailed through the air. The group ran behind a wall. For the moment, they were okay. There was quiet before Hermione threw her free hand towards the entry door, finally catching her breath.

“Inside, Fleur. It’s the third floor, we have a room set up for medical aid.”

“Which way? I am not familiar—,”

“Up the stairs, first left, then keep going until you hit a wall. Then turn right and walk until you get to the first window. You won’t see anything there. It’s Disillusioned but call out ‘ _Dumbledore’s Army_ ’ and Madame Pomfrey will let you in— _wait!_ ” She shot her hand out. “Fleur, wait, you have to be careful. I can’t guarantee you’ll get up there without trouble. I don’t know if they’ve breached another entryway.”

“Je vois, ‘ermione, merci,” Fleur nodded, reaching out to yank Bill down to her face; kissing him with enough passion that everyone watching went bright red and averted their eyes. Ginny had the good grace not to gag. He whispered something in her ear before she turned to the group. “Okay, I go!”

She ran off, ducking under the shallow stone wall before diving through the door. Bill kept his eyes trained on her until she was out of view and then turned back. 

“Listen, I don’t know how much time before the rest of them get here, but we have eyes on Zabini and Malfoy. THey’re just clearing the Forbidden Forest now.”

Hermione felt her heart squeeze in her chest from excitement but then she frowned, mid-smile.

“And Adrian? Did you—did anyone see Adrian Pucey?”

“No,” Bill shook his head, “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

“Right,” she tried to rationalise it in her head, “maybe he’s just not with them.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.”

— — —

Harry threw his cloak over his head and walked towards the Forbidden Forest, the Resurrection stone cold and unyielding in his hand.

He looked back at the castle and smiled. 

— — — 

Draco watched a small army of people running at him and for a minute, he was filled with terror. Then, he remembered that these were the good guys and that he, miraculously, was one of them. Blaise lifted his mask for a brief moment and he copied him, allowing the people coming towards them to see their faces. As they came closer, he recognised Dean Thomas leading them. 

“Draco! Blaise!” Dean lifted a hand, waving as he ran to them.

“Thomas!” 

They skidded to a halt and Dean looked behind them, craning his neck. 

“Where’s the rest?”

“They’re not there,” Blaise panted, bending over. Dean led them to Hagrid’s hut, which was now just a pile of stones thanks to Bellatrix Lestrange. “We Stunned the soldiers who were with us and hid their bodies, but there’s another group coming up in a few moments. They’re just foot soldiers. Easy to take.”

Dean nodded, and waved his arm at the students behind him. 

“Everyone get into place. Remember what was discussed, nobody steps one foot inside the Forest.”

The team scattered, running across the grassy field and Dean refocused his gaze on Draco and Blaise. Draco nodded to the man’s arm, bare in his short-sleeve shirt.

“Who gave you that?” He asked, looking at the thick scar that ran from Dean’s palm to his inner elbow.

“The snake.”

“Fuck,” Blaise muttered, shaking his head, “ _when_?”

“During the battle at the bridge in May, before we retreated to the castle. It had already done a bit damage to a few of us before Neville killed it. Anyway,” he shook his head, “you have to get to the castle. McGonagall and Snape freed Trelawney’s classroom from the anti-Apparition enchantments so you can go straight there now.”

“It’s safe?”

“Yeah, we have a group of people there. Order members, too. Just in case one of that lot,” he used his wand arm to gesture to the forest, “tries something funny. Don’t worry, they all know not to Stun you. You’re on the safe list.”

“Right,” Draco said, hating how nervous he sounded. 

“Look, you have to go now. It’s your best bet for helping us fight. Out here, they’ll see you turning on them and they’ll have the upper hand but you can fight effectively from the inside out.”

“Yeah, okay,” Blaise said, tugging on Draco’s shirtsleeve, “let’s go.”

Draco looked at Dean, searching his face. 

“Look, I’m really sorry. If I ever—,”

The other man shook his head, chuckling.

“You’ll be sorrier if you get caught up in this. My team and I, we’re trained for outdoor attacks. We’ve got this. Now, go.” He tilted his head. “Get to the castle.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

As Blaise reached out to grab hold of Draco’s wrist, Dean spoke again. 

“Wait, Hermione’s in the—,”

Draco didn’t hear the rest of Dean’s sentence as he was whisked away.

— — —

Harry Potter walked into Voldemort’s tent with the calm composure of someone who knew their fate. The haunting eyes that glinted at him only made his resolve stronger and he brought himself nearer to the man—to the monster—that killed his parents. 

“Harry Potter, at last.”

— — —

Lavender sprinted up the stairs to the Divination classroom and threw open the door as two figures popped into existence in the middle of the room, promptly falling to the floor in a table of limbs and beaded cushions. 

“It’s Draco!” Tonks shouted, yanking him up and squeezing him in a tight hug before he could catch his breath. Remus pulled Blaise to his feet, patting his shoulder. Both men let their masks drop to the floor, discarded and unwanted.

“How are you boys?” Remus asked. 

“Happy to be here,” Blaise replied, looking around the room. Draco saw the familiar faces of Hannah Abbott and Ernie MacMillan standing with them, smiling with friendly faces and none of the cruel intentions of the people he was used to. 

“Can we go?” he asked. Remus nodded. 

"You’ll need a runner with you. We've blocked off a lot of main areas with heavy wards.”

“Come with me,” Lavender said, holding out her hand. “I’ll show you the quickest way down.”

They followed behind the girl, muttering their thanks to the people in the room as they went. Draco took a large swig of Pepper-Up potion as he ran.

“Do you know where Luna is?” Blaise asked, and Lavender nodded. “She’s a couple of floors under Ravenclaw tower, with her team. You can get to her quickest if we go down to the kitchens first. There’s a door that leads up to where she is.”

“Thanks, Lavender.”

“No problem.” She took them down a strange winding staircase that neither man had ever seen or used, before they came to a large door. “By the way, Draco, Hermione’s by the front entrance.”

Draco didn’t bother wondering how Lavender Brown knew exactly what question was on the tip of his tongue. “Thank you.” And he meant it.

“This is one of the elves’ back passages into the kitchen. You can go through there and come out to the Great Hall. It’s the second door past the ovens. Blaise, you need to go through the door that has the carving on it, by the window.”

“What about you?”

“I’m a runner. My job is to get people to where they need to be.” As she spoke, she bent down to tend to a gash from some spell that had sliced through her pant leg. “Some people are good at spells, some are good at strategy. I'm not good at either of those things but I’m fast, so…” She shrugged.

“You’ll be okay on your own, then?” Draco asked, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Lavender smiled, looking faintly surprised. 

“I never thought I’d live to see the day that Draco Malfoy expressed concern for someone like me.”

Blaise snorted and they heard a crash on the other side of the door. “Don’t worry,” Lavender pushed Draco’s wand down, “it’s just the elves. They’re crap at hiding.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

“See you both later!” Lavender reached up to hug both Draco and Blaise before shooting back up the rickety stairs. 

“She’s—,”

“Weird.”

“But nice.”

“Yeah.”

— — —

Adrian Apparated into the Forest, just outside of his tent, and realised very quickly that something was wrong. It was the far away sound of someone screaming that tipped him off.

“Fuck.”

And then, someone was yanking on his collar and dragging him backwards. He twisted, relaxing just a fraction when he saw that it was his father. 

“Come on, I’ve been summoned to the Dark Lord’s tent. You should come, too. He'll be pleased to see you.”

“Why, Father?” He reluctantly turned to follow him. “Shouldn’t we be going,” he pointed a finger in the direction of Hogwarts, “that way?”

“There are plenty of soldiers, Adrian. They’ll take care of it. The Dark Lord is calling and we mustn’t be late.”

They arrived at Voldemort’s tent and Adrian felt a chill of fear pass through his chest. He stepped inside. 

Fuck. 

— — —

Harry Potter lay on the carpeted floor, unmoving.

— — —

“Adrian, my dear boy! Just in time.” Voldemort called out, and Adrian balked at the sight of Harry Potter lying in front of him, his face just a foot from where he was standing. The elder Pucey stepped around the body to join his master, practically beaming with joy. Everyone in the tent looked elated. 

Adrian was frozen, staring down at the man—the boy—who was supposed to save him.

Who was supposed to save them all. 

“I—,”

“You knew him, yes?”

“I—,”

“SPEAK UP!” Voldemort roared, before collapsing into giggles. 

“Yes, my lord. I knew him.”

Then, there was a solo applause and Adrian tore his gaze away from Harry Potter to Voldemort, who was clapping. 

“Good. Good. Then you can be the one to confirm.”

“Sir?”

“To confirm that _Harry Potter_ ,” he spat the words out like they tasted bitter in his mouth, “is dead.”

There were murmurs from the handful of higher-ups who surrounded Voldemort. Adrian looked towards his father, who only glared back. 

“My son,” he started, “is honoured that you would choose him for this task.”

Adrian started to move his feet, trying not to tremble, as he circled Harry’s prone body. He walked around him until he had his back to Voldemort, before crouching down. One hand came up to Harry’s chest and the other was braced on the floor as he leaned over to search for a sign of life.

There was nothing. 

He waited. 

And then—

A heartbeat. 

Harry Potter was _alive_.

Adrian felt his own heart beating wildly in his chest and he tried to quiet it before turning to face the eager audience.

“Well? Alive or dead?”

Adrian rose up, face solemn. 

“Dead.”

— — —

“I’ll see you, then.” Draco gave his friend a hug as they stood in the kitchens, flanked by the three tiny house elves who had adamantly refused to hide down in the dungeons. Blaise looked at him with a torn expression. He needed to go find Luna and Draco needed to get to Hermione. 

“See you soon.”

“Don’t get yourself killed.” He started striding towards the Great Hall and Blaise laughed as went to the door that let to a side passage.

“Same to you, dickhead.”

— — — 

“Well, well, well, look what we have here.”

Bellatrix Lestrange stopped pacing on top of one of the dining tables, smiling at her nephew. Draco froze, hand reaching for his wand. 

“Aunt.”

“Where’s your mask, Draco, sweetie?”

“Where’s _yours_?”

“Don’t need one. Scary enough without it.” 

“Maybe I don’t need one either.”

Bella stepped down onto the bench and her slow, cat-like movements made Draco want to turn and run. 

“You know,” she purred, “I thought something might be wrong. Last night.”

“Yes?” Draco started inching towards the door.

“That girl. That Mudblood of yours. You didn’t kill her.”

“How would you know?”

“Because, my darling,” she dropped to the floor, knees bending to absorb the impact, “you can lie as much as you’d like to, but your eyes…” she lifted her wand and pointed straight at him, “they tell me everything.”

“You could have questioned me last night, then. Maybe you’re not as clever as you think you are.”

She laughed; a hollow, humourless laugh. As she advanced, he retreated. 

“You stupid little boy,” her tone changed. “You think you can betray the Dark Lord and get away with it?”

— — —

Hermione felt it. She sent a hex towards a particularly nasty woman who was volleying _Avadas_ at her and suddenly, it happened. A shift within her body, within the magic that pulsed through her veins.

Draco was nearby.

She turned to face Ginny.

“I have to—,” she pointed at the doorway, “I have to go.”

“Draco? He’s here?”

Hermione nodded, frantic. Her body was urging her and she struggled to fight it. Ginny pressed a hand to her cheek and smiled. 

“Go get him.”

— — —

“I—,”

“You think I wouldn’t put him before you? You think I wouldn’t put him before everyone else?”

And then, Draco—in a display of the worst decision-making skills he possessed—decided to use humour as his first line of defence. He smirked.

“You know, he’s actually a half-blood, so you might want to—,”

“ _CRUCIO_!”

He was too slow with his wand and his body twisted away from her to brace for impact. 

\--

It never came.

“Isn’t that sweet?” his aunt taunted. “The dirty little Mudblood, coming to save you.”

He looked up to see a large protection shield thrown up against the curse and Hermione standing beside him, her eyes blazing. Before he could say or do anything, the shield had broken and both witches were tossing spells back and forth. The glass shattering around them woke Draco from his daze and he threw curses of his own. Bella hissed and cackled as the spells deflected off her shields, and he hated her for how powerful she was. 

“Hermione,” he shouted, as a beam fell to the floor in front of them, “get back. It’s too dangerous!”

She ignored him and stepped nearer to where Bellatrix was standing. Another Death Eater ran into the room — Yaxley. He advanced on Draco while Bella fought Hermione.

“Come closer, little girl. Let’s see what you can do.”

Hermione responded by throwing spells as fast as she could, causing a window to shatter into Bella’s face. Draco quickly disarmed Yaxley, an older man who was no longer fit for battle. When the older witch saw Draco tossing her comrade to the corner of the room, wrapped in tight ropes, she turned her attention to him. This time, neither he nor Hermione was fast enough to block the _Crucio_ that came his way.

Hermione dove but Bella flicked her out of the way with her wand and her small body hit the wall. The temporary break in the curse alleviated the bone-crushing pain radiating through Draco’s body for a miniscule moment. When she returned her attention to him, he was trembling on the floor, reaching for Hermione where she lay unconscious. _If only he could get to her..._

“Give up yet, darling?”

He bit his tongue in an effort to reply and his mouth filled with blood. His body wasn’t working properly. Nothing was working. He had barely a minute to find some control over his hands before the pain washed over him again and he was screaming. There was nothing but pain and he forgot about his life, and Hermione, and the feel of the sun on his face.

 _If I died now, it would be alright_ , he thought. _It would be okay._

So he closed his eyes, and felt the blood in his mouth seeping back into his throat, until—

“NOT MY SON, YOU BITCH!”

And then, when he opened his eyes, his beloved mother was standing above him, her cloak billowing around them. 

“Cissy!” Bellatrix leapt forward, her eyes wide with glee. “Come to defend your pathetic excuse for a son?”

“No, Bella,” Narcissa bit out, her face streaked with tears as she raised her wand. “I’ve come to stop defending my pathetic excuse for a sister. _Avada Kedavra_.”

And it happened so quickly that Draco, barely conscious, almost missed the streak of green that flew from his mother’s wand, hitting her sister square in the chest. There was a moment, where it seemed that he imagined it in his deliriousness. And then, Bellatrix Lestrange hit the floor. 

Dead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> P.S. You might have noticed that I didn't use Psyche and Eros as my Hermione/Draco view points, but I felt that this chapter had too many POVs so I left them out. 
> 
> P.P.S. You don't know HOW MUCH I wanted to kill off at least five (good) characters in this chapter, but I restrained myself because I made a promise that I wouldn't.


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